


Sex is in Our Veins (But Love is in Our Memories)

by Archangelsings



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: 200 years in the future, AO3 1 Million, Actor!Louis, Bartender!Harry, Bondage, City Caste System, Coporate!Zayn, Domination, Drinking, Drugs, F/M, Future AU, HalfBrother!Liam, JAAKing, Liam's a psychiatrist, M/M, Manipulative!Niall, Married!Zayn, MentallyUnstable!Niall, Miserable!Zayn, Multi, Nial's kinda cray, Niall-centric, Revenge, S&M kinda?, Sadastic!Niall, Sci-fi-Au, Secrets of Malik Ind., Self Harm, Sexual Addiction, Suicidal!Niall, Top!Niall, Top!Zayn, Valentine's Day, Zayn's a bit of a dick, bottom!Niall, bottom!Zayn, hurt!Niall, mental manipulation, something freaky's goin on in New Dublin, ziall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1200388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangelsings/pseuds/Archangelsings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> “What I want,” Niall let go of Zayn’s left wrist and began trailing a finger down his chest. He licked his lips slowly and splayed his hand on Zayn’s stomach, feeling the abdominal muscles contract, “is to fuck ya,” his hand grabbed the loop of Zayn's belt and stopped, tugging them closer, “and fuck ya good.” Zayn closed his eyes and whimpered. <b>Beautiful.</b> This was what he’d wanted from the start.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sex is in Our Veins (But Love is in Our Memories)

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Trigger for dubious consent, Sexual themes, sex, language, alcohol, drug and mental abuse, Mild homophobic slurs
> 
>    
> ***Update***  
> I'm lazy soooo i'm not deleting what I already wrote. But sense this seems to have gotten a relatively postive response so far I'll be officially turning this into a multi-chapter fic (as I've mentioned in the comments! SO THANKS EVERYONE!!!
> 
> ***END UPDATE***
> 
>  
> 
> YO! OMG! ITS 1 O FUCKING CLOCK I HAVE BEEN UP SENSE 2 AM FINISHING THIS! SOOOO NOT EVEN THE END IS REALLY EDITED IM SORRY NOT REALLY BUT I WANT THIS UP!!!
> 
> 2nd note if I get a big enough response I will DEFINITELY continue this, I have plenty of story planned out past this point its just a matter of whether or not you all want it that i'll do it. So if you do COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT!!
> 
> 3RD NOTE!! THE WEEK LONG MONSTER IS DONE!! WAS MEANT TO BE MY VALENTINES DAY UPLOAD BUTTTT... didn't happen but hey only 3 days late eh?
> 
> Also I'd like to thank my friends Nicole and Sarah (Ketsu-bby) for motivating me through his 42 pages monster so THANKS! THIS WOULDN'T BE HERE WITHOUT YOU!
> 
> I'll post a beta'd ver. Later. Gonna sleep now  
> Remember you want more? Comment!  
> I wuv you!  
> -Archie  
> Goes to die

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Sex is in Our Veins (But love is in Our Memories)**

  
__**-a story of helpless remembering-**_ _

* * *

**MY Baby's Cars**

**Deal with the sexy**

**-Archie**

* * *

_**Y** _ **ear 2195**

_**Special Broadcast:** _

_Citizens of glorious New Dublin! Have you ever… forgotten something? Do you wish you could remember that one special night on the beach? Or that one story your Grandfather used to tell you all the time when you were a kid?_

_Do you find yourself looking back and realizing just how little you truly remember of your childhood when watching your own children age right before your eyes? Does it upset you? Does it come to haunt you when you least expect it? Do you wish you could do something to alleviate the Alzheimer's in your ailing father's mind?_

_Well - Your call has been heard and Malik Industries has answered!_

_Introducing the voice of change, Malik Ind.'s newest creation:_

_**The Javadd Malik!** _

_Named after Malik CEO's twenty-one year old son and successor, Mr. Zayn Javadd Malik, to honor his newly confirmed engagement to Ms. Perrie Edwards, the Javadd Malik or_ _**JAAK** __for is a neuro-stimulant that once active will allow full access to any and all memories locked in the deepest parts of your brain!_

 _100% Safe. 100% Affordable! Order now to get your_ _**JAAK** __today!_

* * *

 _ **Y** _ **ear 2196**

**The New Dublin Times**

**Article # 5987A**

" _ **Is JAAK Falling Down the Hill?"**_

**By: Nick Grimshaw**

_So, everyone knows about big bad JAAK right? It's Malik Industries saving grace; the thing named after their golden child. "Unlocking the potential of the mind!" That's their motto! Ha! Who am I kidding… Of course you do! You'd have to live under a rock (or maybe just New Dublin) not to have at least heard about it._

_Anyway, looks like little JAAKy's not everything he's cracked up to be. Not as_ _**safe.** __Studies show there to have been some pretty weird side-effects when tested on rats (you can see the results on our website) and now it's got the people asking the big question:_

_**What about us?** _

* * *

_**Y** _ **ear 2196**

**JOURNALIST NICK "THE SHARK" GRIMSHAW: KICKED OUT OF NEW DUBLIN?**

_After writing a very critical and controversial article on Malik Industries JAAK in which he called it "unsafe" and "dangerous", outside sources said that the journalist he was taken into police custody. Other sources tell us he was asked to revoke his claims. When he refused, he was told that Malik Industries would do everything in its power to get his citizenship revoked. Grimshaw still refused; the trial is now underway._

* * *

_**Y** _ **ear 2196**

**NICK GRIMSHAW VERDICT RELEASED: CITIZENSHIP REVOKED!**

_That's right, folks! After a two month long trial, the verdict has finally been set: Nick Grimshaw's citizenship to New Dublin has been officially revoked, his name forever tarnished and erased from the records of New Dublin Citizenry._

_Grimshaw was found guilty on many accounts of slander, perjury, blackmail, and conspiracy. He was given a choice: freedom or imprisonment? He chose freedom; as such, he can never again apply for citizenship, or set foot in New Dublin lands. The following is an interview with famous movie star Louis Tomlinson following the release of the verdict._

_**Reporter: Mr. Tomlinson, what do you think of the verdict, we know you've been a long time friend to Mr. Grimshaw.** _

_Tomlinson: I think it's a load of bullshit! Grimshaw doesn't deserve this! He has a family, you know. And now he'll never get to see them again? That's just fucked up._

_**Reporter: Do you believe the allegations to be true?** _

_Tomlinson: *Scoffs* Hell no. I think Malik just pulled some shit together to cover their asses so they wouldn't get sued and end up with a huge loss in stocks. They got hit hard enough already._

_**Reporter: So you believe this to be a conspiracy against Mr. Grimshaw?** _

_Tomlinson: I guess so._

_**Reporter: Does this mean you also believe in the warnings Mr. Grimshaw gave about the JAAKs?** _

_Tomlinson: Absolutely._

_**Reporter: Thank you for your time, Mr. Tomlinson.** _

_Tomlinson: No problem._

* * *

_**Y** _ **ear 2196**

 

 

**GAY MOVIE-STAR LOUIS TOMLINSON TAKEN TO COURT BY MALIK INDUSTRIES!**

* * *

_**Y** _ **ear 2197**

 

 

**PEAS IN A POD: ACTOR LOUIS TOMLINSON DEALT SAME FATE FOR DEFENDING GRIMSHAW!**

* * *

_**Y** _ **ear 2197**

 

 

**FDA AND CDC SPONSER FORCED RECALL OF ALL JAAKS FOR INVESTIGATION!**

* * *

_**Y** _ **ear 2197**

 

 

**MALIK SAVIOUR JAAK FOUND UNFIT FOR HUMAN USE!**

* * *

_**Y** _ **ear 2197**

 

 

**JAAK PRODUCTION HALTED**

* * *

_**Y** _ **ear 2198**

 

 

**JAAKS OFFICIALLY DISCONTINUED**

* * *

_**Y** _ **ear 2198**

 

 

**MALIK INDUSTRIES OFFERS SETTLEMENT TO ENRAGED FAMILIES**

_No one can erase the past…_

* * *

_**Three Years Later** _

_Year 2201_

_No. No. No. No. No._  This wasn't supposed to happen! This wasn't how it was supposed to be! This wasn't what he wanted! His mind screamed:  _this is fake_ ,  _this isn't real_. But his body…  _his body_  believed it was. It  _felt_  real. It  _felt_  like more than a dream. More than a memory gone awry. It felt…  _physical_. And his traitorous body responded to it all. The hard hands on his hips, rough and uncaring.  _He moaned._  The breath on his neck.  _It_   _made him hard, so, so, so hard._  The lips on his pulse that sucked hungrily on pale flesh.  _His eyes rolled to the back of his head._  The sudden shock of pain that raced down his spine as teeth sunk into his throat, biting him, fucking  _branding_ him like a fucking rabid  _animal_ \- fierce and demanding.  _It made him putty and cracked his walls._ He arched into the touch and silently begged for it - for more - for the bulge he felt pressing against his thigh. He fell into everything that was  _Zayn_. He was pliant against his tongue. Open and submissive against the rough hands that dug painful bruises into the v of his slender hips. His body  _screamed,_  "take me". "Break me".  _"Own me"._  And that scared Niall more than anything else. It scared him because  _this wasn't real._

_None of this was fucking real._

He knew it. He knew it, he knew it, he knew it, he  _knew_  it but when Zayn pushed him up against the wall with enough force to wind him, all Niall could think was -

_Shit. This is exactly what he needed._

It made him feel  _alive_ again. It let him know he wasn't just the worthless shell of a human being that everyone (including himself) thought he was. He was more than the slut in the public bathroom stall, moaning without shame but sounding more hollow than even the fakest porn-star ever could. He wasn't just the cokehead snorting crack through his nose in a seedy motel room, whose blue eyes once shone so brightly. Now, they only ever sparked when the drug was in his veins. Zayn's touch showed him that he wasn't just a sad, scraggly-looking alcoholic wasting away in the corner of a bar - bleach blonde hair dull and lifeless just like him. He was  _more_ than he really  _was_. Because it was all  _true_ : he was  _worthless_ , he was  _nothing_. When Zayn held him, he felt like he was  _worth_ something.

And it made.  _No. Fucking. Sense._

So he kissed back. He pushed everything else aside and just let his mind go. He let himself  _feel_  again and it was passionate and hurried and just like everything it used to be. Perfect. Ephemeral. Fleeting. And so, so,  _so_  good. Niall couldn't ask for more.

It was a whirlwind of moans and groans, of almost feral growls and steamy, fiery,  _angry_ touches and  _need_. Dear  _God._  The  _desire_. The  _lust._  The pure, unadulterated,  _sinful_  blaze that clawed through his veins. The fire lit a match and let everything inside him  _burn_ , leaving his mind a haze which left him panting, gasping, leaning in for more, more,  _more_. It wasn't right but it didn't matter because it  _felt_  right. Right now, it was all about  _feelings_. How it  _felt_  to  _him_. It was why he did  _this_. Why he put up with this beautiful, horrible, wretched man when deep down inside he knew it was slowly destroying him. But  _feelings_ … touch…  _emotion._  They were all that really mattered.

So Niall thrust his fingers through Zayn's raven locks. He bit back. He yanked. He grinded and he marked and nothing made him feel more alive. He scratched down Zayn's bronzed back, ripped off his blue button down shirt and whimpered in desperate unabashed  _lust._  He stared into his honey colored eyes, pupils blown. He pressed Zayn's rough hand against his arousal. He took the hint. Zayn squeezed. Niall moaned. And it was all so  _good._

But no.

In the back of his mind, Niall knew he needed to pull himself together.  _Pay attention, Niall!_  He knew that in a moment this would all come crashing down.  _Don't give in._ He knew he'd be royally  _fucked._   _Listen, listen, listen!_ He knew he needed to heed that little voice in his head, the sane part of him yelling,  _No! No! No! No! NO!_  over and over again.  _Stop, stop, stop, stop,_ _ **stop!**_  Bad trips were dangerous, uncontrollable, and often times fatal, but at the same time…

That little devil in Niall's mind, the part of him that had already given up on life, the part that had died and left him empty, whispered in his ear. It told him to fuck it all. If he was going to die, whether in a club from a failed liver or an STD from a random fuck in a public bathroom or an overdose on crack on a particularly bad day, anyway, why  _not_ now? Why not when his mind was on the tip of euphoria? Why the  _fuck_ not? Because it would be selfish? Because it would be cowardly? His friends would be sad? Disappointed? Ha! He was long past caring about shit like that. He was in too deep. Long gone. Lost. He'd messed up and fallen down so many times, he didn't even know which way was up anymore.

Yet…

_Yet?_

Something stopped him from letting go completely and from just doing what his traitorous body screamed to. It wasn't because deep down he was a good person. No. Because he  _wasn't._  It was  _because_  he was a fucked up  _coward_ that he began reaching for the JAAK lodged in his spine, sending the forced command of  _"RE:PLAY"_  through his nerves and up into his frontal-lobe. It was because he remembered how this particular memory ended.

He knew how it soured. He silently cursed his luck at getting a faulty JAAK, because JAAKs were supposed to avoid memories like these. Memories with conflicting emotions, memories that weren't fully positive because this memory  _was_  fond. The touches and kisses were  _great_ , and the sight of a debauched was Zayn even  _better_. But the end… The end was horrible. The end is what catapulted Niall into JAAKing in the first place.

There was a  _reason_ their touch was angry. Why it was so  _rushed_  and  _fiery._  It was because this would be the last time they'd ever see each other. It was because in thirty seconds their hotel door would be flung open and they'd be torn apart. Zayn's parents would see their son for who he really was. A disgrace. A faggot. And Niall would be stuck in that hellish loop all over again. Forever. So he decided to end it before it started.

Niall closed his eyes, with one hand still in Zayn's hair tugging them closer. The other hand slowly began reaching behind his own head and up towards his neck where he could feel the JAAK pulsing. Beeping. Warning _. Error. Error. Error._  He grabbed it in his fist.

The door burst open and just like before, he couldn't help but look up and  _feel_  it all  _over_ again. His heart pounded. His eyes widened. His stomach dropped. Residual panic began coursing through his system…

But he caught himself. His eyes went steely in a way they couldn't in the past. This time, it was only a memory. This time, it couldn't hurt him. This time, he could control it and stop it where he wanted to. Niall ripped the JAAK from the base of his skull with a sharp and trained yank.

He could feel no more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**-Sex is in Our Veins (But love is in Our Memories)-**

There's a ringing in Niall's ears and a taste like charred flesh on his tongue.  _The first taste he's had in days._ Something wet ran down the back of his neck, probably blood. He paid it no mind because it was  _dark._  Too dark. Way too  _fucking_  dark. Dark in a way that sent a shiver of wrongness down his spine. A  _lightless_ kind of dark. He smacked his dry, chapped lips together. Already his sense of taste was beginning to fade; he didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved. He supposed he felt a little bit of both. His fist tightened around the now discarded JAAK; he felt the prongs prick the skin of his thumb. He winced and brought the digit to his mouth before tossing the now dead JAAK to the ground. Something was off.  _But what?_  Niall blinked.  _What…_  He looked left, then right.

His body went rigid.  _No..._  He gulped and brought his shaking hands up to his face. Touching. He felt the curve of his jaw, the dip of his nose, he felt up and up and  _up_  until…

 _Eyelashes._  He stopped. The lashes brushed against his fingertips, but he didn't  _see_ them. His fingers were  _right in front of his eyes,_  but there was nothing but black _._  A void.  _No._  He blinked again and again and an almost pathetically broken whimper bubbled up from his throat _. No._  A tear ran down his face. His eyes were open.  _Shit!_  This couldn't be happening! His lungs constricted and he couldn't get enough air. This  _couldn't_  be happening!  _Not now._  Blind! He couldn't see _. He couldn't fucking see!_

" _Fuck!_ " Niall stumbled out of bed. He couldn't even remember whether or not it was his own, but he didn't really care. He knew it wasn't, though. The smell of the room was all wrong, like weed and sex and decay. The ground was too rough and too cold; it was also too slick and grimy against his feet. He could hear a faint cough coming from the far right corner. The air was stagnant and warm, a breeding ground for death and disease.  _A JAAKing Den,_  his mind supplied.

 _Blind._  He was fucking  _blind!_

Niall didn't know what to do; he didn't know what was going on. He was so disoriented.  _What time was it? What day was it? Where the hell was he? Who'd he come here with?_ And  _where the hell was his god damn phone?!_ He felt around in his pockets, looking for that familiar lump but it was gone.  _Shit!_  His head pounded like the worst kind of hangover. He should've known better than to keep it in such an obvious spot.

He staggered blindly forward, arms out and sweeping. His body was bent like gravity was seconds away from bringing him to the ground. A low hanging beam smacked him in the face. He slipped. He slammed into a wall and hit his tooth. Pain radiated up his jaw and he just knew he'd chipped it. He could feel the ragged edge against his tongue. He stumbled backwards. He fell. His back hit the ground with a resounding thud. The back of his head slammed against the floor with a loud crack. A cry of pain got stuck in his throat. No one came to help him.  _No one fucking came._  Niall couldn't say he blamed them.

_Because he was worthless._

_Worthless. Worthless. Worthless._

So he just lay there slowly going numb to the outside world and waited for the familiar cold to settle in his heart. Was it sad that the only time he felt safe now was when he didn't feel at all?

The tears stopped falling.

His sight came back, though. He sat up and, with dulled blue eyes, looked down at his hands: dirty, chipped and shaking. He didn't even remember breaking some of these nails. His arms were smattered with a fine layer of grime and dust. He imagined he could pass as vitiligo victim from a distance, all patchy and pale.  _Maybe if they were drunk._  He snorted and it sounded hollow and inhuman even in his ears. He touched the back of his head. Crimson came away on his fingers.

_He was fucking pathetic._

There weren't many surprises when it came to JAAKing. The risks of even a single use were spoken, written and seen clear as day; the side-effects from extended use were even clearer. It wasn't even like it was that hard to put two and two together. It was a neuro-drug. The JAAK  _literally_  dug into the spine, connected to the nerves in the back of the neck, and sent the command that put the functions of the frontal-lobe into overdrive. It really came as no surprise to anyone when the first users began complaining about the loss of their sense of taste, loss of memories they associated to their JAAKing experience just a few hours before, or how they'd have these sudden violent flashes of emotion, only to peter off seconds later into a strange and robotic numbness.

Niall'd already lost his sense of taste and he couldn't really say that it bugged him; everything now tasted like cardboard, and he could live with that, but today had been a warning. It was the first time his optics had been affected. Honestly, the thought of never being able to see again was more terrifying than anything he'd experienced in a while.

The blonde got to his feet and tried to brush off his worn gray and black sweatpants with the back of his hand, but it didn't help much. He only managed to smear his blood on them. He sighed and looked around, trying to see if he could figure out if he'd been to this Den before. It was kind of hard to do from the inside when all of them looked the same: just a bunch of homeless looking men and women with small two inch by one inch cylinders protruding from their necks in a dilapidated apartment complex or warehouse. Sheets hung like curtains on the walls and from low hanging beams. Aside from the few bodies laying in suspended animation around him, there was nothing of any real interest in this room.

Niall began walking. Thankfully, he found that his shoes were not too far off, pulling them on sockless and padding out the door. Moonlight streamed in from the caved in roof, revealing a now desecrated lobby. He could see that, at one time, this place had probably been grand. It was noticeably cooler out here and a breeze ruffled his lifeless almost white locks across his face. Niall thought he should probably do something - sigh in contentment, maybe smile - but he couldn't be bothered to dredge up the emotion; instead he walked down the stairs.

The steps were made of marble, cracked and missing in places but otherwise whole; for that he was grateful. He reached the lobby and looked up, half of a chandelier still miraculously hung from the ceiling, the other half long since shattered on the floor. He picked up a sparkling piece and stuffed it in his pocket. Maybe it was worth something.

The blonde stepped over more JAAKing men and woman. His gaze probably appeared condescending or patronizing, but in reality, it was nothing more than apathetic. He didn't have room in his heart to care about other people. Not anymore. The capacity had been shot out of him years ago.

A faded flyer blew into his pant leg. Niall bent to pick it up:

 

**Dublin Green Hotel**

**Come one! Come all! Come for fun for the whole family!**

**Join us for a night of unforgettable TRAD!**

**A must see for every tourist!**

  
**Friday November 15** **th** **2150**

**7:00 – 11:00p.m.**

Niall tossed the flyer to the side; now that he looked, he could see the entire floor was littered with them. He hummed in the back of his throat _. November 15_ _th_ _2150._   _'Round the time of the third world war._  Niall mused. He looked up at the hole in the ceiling and he could almost hear the sounds. Drones and explosions, field barriers that froze and flattened everything in their path. He ran a hand through his hair, and puffed out a breath. It was matted in the back and tangled in the front and he winced when he tugged his hand free. That war was fifty years ago and the reason why New and Middle Dublin and been constructed. He glanced back at the flyer that had been blown against the side of a reception desk. Well, that answered the question of where he was. He shoved his soiled hands into his pockets.

_Phone. He needed to find a god-damned phone._

He grimaced. He actually felt a little something at the thought. A twinge of…what? Anger? Annoyance? Irritation? He didn't know. The emotion was squashed down before he could properly tell. He sighed as the full numbing emptiness settled over his mind again.

_Phone._

He glanced around the room. Niall walked over to the nearest JAAKer, a lady with gray hair and ratty woolen clothes that were rough to the touch. He figured she was old, but he couldn't tell with the hat she had covering her face. Then again, a person could never really tell with JAAKers. Some people got some abnormal physical side-effects too, usually due to an underlying mental illness. He was just glad he wasn't one of them.

Niall reached into the lady's coat pockets and then her pants, careful to keep low and stay under her neck line. When a person JAAKed, they were in a state of pseudo awareness. You were still able to send simple commands like  _"hand grab JAAK"_  to your brain, but not much else. Because of this, the JAAKs were built so that if anything came too close to the neckline, it would automatically shut off and bring the user back to full consciousness. It was helpful but it only benefitted new users whose nerves hadn't already been fried. He didn't know how long this lady JAAKed. It was always better to be safe than sorry.

He found her phone and his face flickered for just a moment as his lip barely twitched upwards as he took out the thin device and stood up to dial. It was an older model, bulkier than the one he'd gotten stolen. It still used a glass membrane for a touch screen.  _So fragile._

He finished dialing and brought the phone to his ear, resting his free hand on his hip where his once white tank top met the sleeves of the navy blue zip-up hoodie that was tied around his waist. He sighed as he waited for Liam to pick up, fingers drumming automatically against his sides. He tapped foot against the ground in the perfect picture of irritation, but he felt nothing.

Liam picked up after the third ring. "'Allo?"

"Liam," Niall said, his voice, lacking any real human inflection or emotion.

"Niall?" He could hear the question and confusion in his voice.

"Yeah."

There was a pause. Niall figured Liam was probably checking the number that had popped up on his screen.

"I don't know this number." He mumbled. Niall hummed in response, because, really, what was there to say?

"Whose phone is this?" Liam asked. "Where are you and what happened to the phone I got you?" He'd begun to sound a little hysterical. Niall subtly brought the phone away from his ear, expression remaining indifferent.

"You're not doing something stupid are you?"

Niall laughed. It was a hollow sound. "Define stupid."

"Niall…" Liam whined; he then let out a sigh. He sounded disappointed and tired of all the shit he had to put up with where Niall was concerned. Niall didn't feel guilty. He didn't feel anything at all.

"I'm in Old Dublin," he replied instead, walking outside, "at a place called the  _Dublin Green Hotel._  Know it?"

Liam hummed. "Yeah… I think."

"Good, 'cause I don't." He stopped walking and looked around before heading left and sitting down on a crumbling cement slab beside the old  _Dublin Green Hotel_  plaque. The ground, made of gravel, crunched beneath his feet. "My phone got stolen. I was – I- I was -," at this part Niall did feel just a hint of guilt because he knew Liam worried about him. Liam didn't deserve this. He deserved better; he deserved to live happily with his wife and kids and not have to come cleaning up all of Niall's messes.

Niall knew his wife hated how Liam would drop whatever he was doing to come and get Niall out of whatever dump he'd managed to find himself in, no matter what the time or the occasion. That was just how he was: he didn't give up on people. It was probably why he was such a good psychiatrist. Niall knew that more than a few of Liam's gray hairs where his fault despite the claim of premature graying running in his family.

Liam sighed. "I know," he whispered. "You don't have to say it."

Niall bit his lip, but he  _did_. He really,  _really_ did. He was  _selfish:_  he  _needed_ Liam to know, and he needed Liam to see that he wasn't changing; he couldn't change. He needed to hear Liam's life worn this time, Liam would finally say  _enough is enough_ and cut ties with him. Maybe Niall'd finally get Liam to live that perfect happy life Niall knew he deserved. "I was JAAKing."

There was a pause and Niall got the sigh. He also got the familiar sound of a rustling coat. Then the familiar white noise as Liam kissed his daughter's forehead and hugged his wife, telling them he'd be back in thirty minutes with Uncle Niall. Niall knew he'd failed.

Niall heard the sound of a door sliding shut. Liam turned his attention back to the call. "I'll see you in ten 'kay? Don't move an inch. I mean it, Niall."

Niall just let out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. He let out a small wince as his dirty fingers grazed the enflamed pronged marks the JAAK left behind.

"Okay," he said softly, nodding like a disobedient child.

"Good," there was a pause as Liam started his car, the light hum of the engine interfering with the call's frequency for a moment before he said. "Love you, Nialler." Like he just knew Niall needed to hear that - just like always - and ended the call.

Didn't Niall feel like  _shit_ after that? He sighed and tossed the phone to the side, suddenly angry. It broke and for some reason that made him happy.

"Love you too, Li."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**-Sex is in Our Veins (But love is in Our Memories)-**

Niall's head was bowed in his hands when Liam finally arrived fifteen minutes later in his Audi Shark. If it weren't for the blue hoodie wrapped around Niall's waist, Liam would have totally overlooked him as part of the scenery. The blonde's camo sweats blended in with the cement around him; the tank top he wore was so smattered with dirt and dust that it wasn't even white anymore.

Liam stopped the car and it silently floated to the ground, it's red "U" shaped lights fading out as he turned off the electric engine. He flipped the hatch of the driver's compartment and it hissed up, the sound of air being released filling the night air. Niall still didn't get up. Liam sighed, running a hand through his slicked back, graying brown hair. He pushed his glasses up higher on his face, before puffing out a breath. Right. He stepped out of the car.

"Niall!" He called, stumbling slightly as he walked across the uneven ground, scuffing his Prada shoes while letting a curse slip from under his breath. Why didn't he think to wear his sneakers? A breeze whipped through the area and Liam sneezed. The blonde looked up, now that he was closer Liam could see just how poor in shape he was.

"God," he mumbled, "what the hell happened?"

Niall was covered in scratches and bruises and his eyes where sunken and rimmed with red like he hadn't slept in days; his skin was absolutely filthy.

"Liam," he said, expression remaining apathetic like he was perfectly healthy, oblivious to the utter wreck his body was in."You came."

The brunette stopped in front of him, expression softening. "Of course I came. I always do, don't I?"  _Now,_  he thought guiltily.

Niall didn't say anything. He stood up with a wince as the cement cut into his tender palms to stand beside the older man. Liam knew he'd fervently deny it, but by the way the blonde's body relaxed just a little, he knew those words went a long way. Everyone needed someone; while Liam had his wife and his daughter, Niall had no one but himself.

The blonde pulled at his bangs. They were getting long and almost completely obscured his eyes. "What day is it?"

Liam loosened the top button of his plaid dress shirt. He fanned himself, already starting to sweat despite the breeze; he didn't know how Niall was able to stand there without perspiring even with a tank top. Why'd he even decide to wear a blazer in the first place? It was summer and Old Dublin was always at least ten degrees warmer than Middle and New Dublin.

"Uhm," Liam licked his lips. "Wednesday." He took a breath, "look, can we talk in the car? I'm dying out here."

Niall sighed, but nodded as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. A hint of a smirk playing at his lips as he walked to the car. "Shouldn't have worn a flannel 'n a blazer then, mate." Liam smiled at the simple teasing. He was glad to see at least a small hint of the old Niall surfacing.

He laughed. "Wasn't thinking, Ni."

Niall paused at the edge of the car  _(shit),_  tensing before relaxing again. The cool and indifferent mask arrived back in place. "Sorry." He stepped into the car.

"Fuck – Ni – I didn't -," Liam let out a frustrated breath and yanked at his hair, making it stick up like devil's horns. He stumbled back to the car. How the hell did Niall make this look so easy?

Liam got in on the driver's side and pressed the button to lower the door; it came down with a soft click. He started the engine and the interface lit up, a fiery red like his flannel. It was silent for a few minutes as Liam focused on navigating his way back out of Old Dublin. Niall sank further into the plush seats. He sighed, feeling content. The bed he'd been laying on back in the Den had been like sleeping on a sack of bricks and left his back stiff and sore. These seats were like resting on a bed of clouds. It felt like  _heaven_. God he fucking  _loved_  Liam and his posh little car. Niall's eyes slipped closed.

Liam fiddled with the dashboard and turned on the radio, with the volume low, to a classical station where the sounds of stringed instruments lilted into the air. Liam nodded to the music, tapped the pads of his thumbs against the grip of the steering wheel. Niall shifted in his seat, and searched for a button on the side of it one.

Liam cleared his throat. "What are you looking for?"

"Mmm," Niall hummed and stopped fidgeting, "the thing that warms the seat up," he drawled, his words slurred slightly.

"Oh," Liam glided his finger over the dash, "here."

The blonde made a noise of approval before sinking back into the seat. "That's nice," he murmured. The car lapsed back into silence.

"We're almost there," Liam said as he traveled up the ramp that led to the large imposing black gates of Middle Dublin.

Niall waved a hand dismissively. "Do your thing, man."

They stopped at the gate and Liam rolled down the Audi's window.

 **Identification?**  The Artificial Intelligence, SALLY, that manned the gate asked. Liam raised his arm, and the thin white identification bracelet on his left wrist came into view. All citizens of New and Middle Dublin had them embedded into their skin at birth. It was a synthesized bio-metal that grew with the wearer and monitored all of their internal functions. If they were sick, it would prescribe their medicine. If they were injured, it called the ambulance. If they needed surgery, it let them know. The bracelet was unique to each person and took stock of their genetic code the moment it was set in. All information was uploaded to the Citizen Registry automatically.

Liam shook his sleeve down a little more and let SALLY ID him, a thin red beam locking onto it.

**Liam Payne Identified**

SALLY hovered over to the other side of the car, Niall raised his arm without prompting.

**Niall Horan Identified. Your Vehicle May Proceed.**

SALLY backed away. The red security lasers turned green signaling that it was safe to drive through.

"Ya know, I never did get used to that," Niall mumbled, peeking at his surroundings through one half lidded eye, "I always feel like the damn thing's going to glitch and fry me alive."

Liam snorted. "We haven't had 'glitches' since the early 2100's. You know that, right?"

Niall shrugged. "First time for everything, humans ain't perfect."

"Must you be such a cynic?"

"I'm not a cynic," Niall murmured, leaning his face towards the air he felt coming from the open window. Already it was noticeably cooler than it had been in Old Dublin. The breeze actually felt nice on his skin, "just a realist."

Liam sighed and scratched his head, brow furrowing as he glanced at the blonde. "Not all people are bad you know."

"Yeah. They all just let you down."

Liam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. There wasn't anything he could say to make it better; anything he said would make the situation worse. His hold tightened on the steering wheel. A pit of fiery anger began bubbling beneath the surface at the thought.  _Zayn._

He breathed out harshly through his nose and sighed. There was nothing he could do about it now. Liam remembered what Niall had been like the day it happened. The day it all came crashing down. He'd still been happy, all smiles and quick wit and unexpected cleverness. So when the lad of a mere nineteen years of age at the time had come to his house, bleeding and crying in the tuxedo he'd planned on wearing the next day…

Liam shook his head and Niall cleared his throat.

"Where are you taking me?"

"My house," Liam said plainly.

"No. Turn around. I'll be fine at my place."

"I'm not leaving you alone tonight."

"Li—"

"Niall—"

" _Liam_ ," Niall snapped, and Liam's brow rose in surprise. "I'm not a kid. I can look after myself."

 _Obviously._  He thought, but all he said was. "I'm taking you home."

Niall bit his lip. "Dani hates me," he tried desperately, "she doesn't want me corrupting yer daughter."  _And she's right,_  he thought to himself,  _I'm a wreck, a worthless, worthless, wreck._

Liam waved his hand dismissively. "Stop being so dramatic, she loves you, it'll be fine."

"Li—"

The brunette cut him off. "Besides, I already told Celia you were coming over and she adores you. You're coming."

Niall closed his mouth and sighed, the fight leaving him. "Fine. Do what you want."

Liam ruffled his hair and smiled, turning his full attention back on the road; Niall closed his eyes and snuggled into the seat getting the last few minutes of peaceful shut eye he could.

He'd need it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**-Sex is in Our Veins (But love is in Our Memories)-**

Niall walked through the fancy wood faced doors and entered the house that was more familiar than his own. He paused in the entryway, glancing behind himself as Liam finished activating his security system, and took off his holey shoes. The light was harsh and artificial, brightening the room in a way that was meant to feel homey but to Niall only seemed cold and unwelcoming. He looked down at his body, the dirt stood out even more, bringing out all the colors that had faded to black in the darkness. The burgundy of his blood, the white ash gray of powdered cement and the caked brown of dirt. He didn't even want to see what his face looked like and pointedly turned to face the opposite wall, away from where he knew an elegantly embroidered mirror hung.

Liam finished with the security and clapped his hands together, turning with a smile to the blonde. "Okay then-," he faltered, face falling into a frown. Now that he was in the light he could see the mass of red that matted Niall's locks together; he reached over and touched the back of the blonde's head; he winced. "What happened? Did someone attack you?" He continued gently prodding the area with smooth fingers until Niall batted his hand away.

"Stop that," he muttered, turning slightly so that Liam couldn't see the wound. "I fell is all."

"Does it hurt?" Liam began reaching for him again but Niall took a deliberate step back.

Niall glared. "Stop worrying about me."

Liam sighed and took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He pointed up the stairs. "Go take a shower, you know where it is. I'll take a look at your head when you're done."

Niall huffed, pointedly looking away from the graying brunette, but nodded. He turned and began his trek up the carpeted steps.

"And don't lock the door!" Liam called from the bottom. "And leave your clothes outside, I'll bring some clean ones up for you 'kay?!"

Niall nodded minutely and slid the door shut behind him, he didn't wait to see if Liam had seen.

The blonde was quick to strip, untying the hoodie around his waist and letting it drop to the floor. It's edges were frayed and worn and the sleeves had holes in them from where he'd bitten through the fabric instead of his nails. He undid the drawstring of his polyester sweats, the fabric crinkling like plastic as they fell away from his bony hips and he shucked off his tank top, rank with the smell of sweat and cheap booze. He vaguely remembered going to  _Styles' Place_ , a cheap hazy kind of bar near the outskirts Old Dublin with the most  _amazing_  tasting bread Niall'd ever had in his life (the owner was a bit of a compulsive baker), last Friday and assumed that's where he'd been.

He tilted his head back against the cool metal of the bathroom door - wincing as it nudged the bump there - before letting out a calming breath.  _Friday._  That was the last day he remembered (albeit very unclearly), and Liam had told him today was Wednesday. That meant almost a week had passed - had he really JAAKed for five days straight? He frowned. That didn't seem possible… but if not… what happened to his missing time? He looked down at his naked body, covered in grime, his ribs just beginning to stand out against his chest, the beginning stages of emaciation. He knew that in the morning he'd be starving; right now he was still experiencing JAAK-Lag, his brain receiving all the commands like  _"I need to go to the bathroom"_  and  _"hungry, feed me"_  hours after his body asked for it.

Niall shook his head and pushed himself off the door, walking over to the shower and tapping the console to unlock the semi-sheer electron barrier that was standard in all bathrooms. It utilized the same technology that was in modern cell-phones, generating a FIELD of high-speed particles that could be manipulated into any shape or form. It was solid to the touch but paper thin and tough as steel.

Niall turned on the water before striding back over to the door and placing his clothes in the hall like asked. Stepping back inside he reached under the sink - grabbing a clean towel - and hit the console again before treading into the steam. The stream was hot, enough so to leave his skin pink and enflamed, but that was just how he liked it. He scrubbed the initial grime off his body, careful of his broken nails, before moving to his face and hair. The floor of the shower turned a murky dirty brown from the water that touched his skin, tinged with red when he gingerly scrubbed his hair.

He let the water gush over him, head tilted back, hitting the thin skin of his eyelids and running down the bow of his mouth.

"Hey Niall! You okay in there?"

Niall jumped, blue eyes flying open, and quickly scrambled to turn off the water.

"Yeah! I'm fine," he called and stepping out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. "Gettin' out now."

Liam's head peeked around the doorway, he'd taken off his glasses and switched into a pair of old shorts. "I'll leave these here for you, don't forget to brush your teeth, I think your brush is on the top shelf." He said gesturing to the mirror cabinet. "Meet me downstairs when you're done, yeah?"

Niall nodded and picked up the clothes he'd given him and slipped on the shirt, he turned and raised a brow when he noticed Liam was still there. "What're ya waiting for? A strip tease?" he waved his free hand in Liam's face. "Get."

The brunette blushed and looked away scratching his nose. "If you've got everything covered here -"

Niall rolled his eyes. "I do."

"Okay then," he nodded. "See you downstairs."

The blonde gave him a two fingered salute and dropped the towel, shimmying on the joggers and pulling them taut around his waist. It was strange, the two men were the same height but Niall was broader in the chest and slimmer in the waist than the other man. It made wearing each other's clothes a bit of a hassle if it didn't stretch or have a drawstring. "C'ya."

The door again slid shut and Niall opened the cabinet, reaching up to the top shelf where, sure enough, his blue toothbrush rested. He brought it down and reached into the drawer right of the sink, pulling out a tube of paste. He rolled the end and pushed out a pea-sized drop onto the brush before closing the cabinet and looking in the mirror. The shower had helped he supposed, removing his false tan and making him seem even paler than usual. Niall poked at the bruise under his eye and ran a finger over the thin cut on his temple. He looked less like a homeless drug addict like this and more like a sleep deprived college student who'd gotten into a fight after a hard night of partying.

Niall sighed: mussed frat boy over homeless vagabond. He could live with that, even if it did send a mild tick of irritation up his spine. He was twenty-five and still looked like he was nineteen, some people would consider that a blessing (see Liam) but for him it was just annoying, he hadn't been in school for over three years. He had his damn MBA  _and_  a Bachelors in Engineering, and seeing the look of surprise on people's faces when he told them he was out of school and owner of a small independent tech repair shop in the middle of Middle Dublin got old real fast.

He shook his head and smiled into the mirror, eyes locked on his chipped tooth with a frown. It wasn't too bad he guessed, in all honesty if he didn't know to look for it he's sure he would've missed it, but it still sucked that it was one of his front teeth. It had hurt more than what the damage was worth in his opinion.

Shrugging his shoulders in defeat he brought the brush to his mouth and brushed. His mouth felt gross, gummy and stiff and if he still had a sense of taste he's sure it would've tasted like ass. He looked at the tube still in his hands. Mint flavored. He scrunched his nose, he supposed that was one perk of being tasteless. He never did like mint. Spitting, he rinsed out his mouth and wiped his mouth on his discarded towel, tossing it in the dirty hamper where a SERVEBot would come collect it in the morning when he was done. He stepped out the room, hair still dripping wet and cleared out his ear with the edge of his borrowed shirt as he began walking down the stairs.

"—don't want him here Li." Niall stopped, that was Danielle's voice.

"I can't just leave him alone you know that," Liam answered back in a low voice, "He needs me."

"Your family needs you,  _I_ need you." Niall began walking down the stairs again, slower this time.

"He's my brother -"

"Half-brother-" Danielle's voice began to rise

"He's family too!" Liam snapped back.

"You're not helping him! Dammit Liam can't you see that?! You're enabling him!" Niall reached the ground floor and peeked around the doorframe of the living room. Danielle and Liam were close, Danielle adding to her height by getting on her toes and Liam quaking where he stood, fists clenched at his sides. "Aren't you the damn psychiatrist?! I shouldn't have to spell it out for you!"

"I'm not abandoning him!" Liam roared.

"I don't like him!" Danielle shouted back.

Niall cleared his throat; the two startled apart, Danielle's eyes widening as he stepped into the room. Niall strode over to Liam patting him on the back and leveling Danielle with a very dry look and unaffected look. "Told ya she didn't like me." He shot her his fakest smile. He tilted his head to look at Liam, and stretched exaggeratedly. "I'm going to bed, long days 'n all."

Liam brought himself out of his stupor first, shaking his head and stuttering. "I-I'll come with you. Promised to check your head."

Niall waved him off. "I'm fine, just banged my head a little."

Liam opened his mouth but Danielle cut him off. "He said he's fine, come to bed." She huffed.

The blonde rolled his eyes. "Thanks fer being so understanding, Dani." He turned, "I'll be in the guest room."

"I'll be there in a sec!" Liam called back.

Niall sighed and shook his head. "Whatever mate." He walked out the room, turning left and striding down the hall. Liam and Danielle heard the door slid shut behind him and a silence fell over the couple.

Danielle narrowed her eyes, brushing back her curly honey colored locks. "This isn't over Liam."

The brunette let out a breath, running a hand through his already unruly hair, before opening his arms. "Come here." Danielle bit her lip and wrapped her arms around her waist, eyes trained on the ground. "No," she whispered and walked around him. "You can sleep with  _Niall_ tonight."

Liam only hung his head and watched as she walked away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**-Sex is in Our Veins (But love is in Our Memories)-**

Niall winced as Liam finished wrapping his head, he thought it was unnecessary but Liam had insisted and he'd learned long ago that it was better to just let him do as he pleased rather than to fight him. Liam could be as thickheaded as himself, if not more so, at times. Niall blew his bangs out of his face as his brother ruffled his hair and tied off the bandage.

"Ya didn't need to do that," he muttered raising his left wrist where the bracelet could be seen. "My BRACKet's still in the green, if I was in any danger it would've told me."

Liam huffed and pulled out a sleeping bag placing it at the foot of the bed, Niall raised a brow but didn't comment.

"Better safe than sorry. Technology's not perfect." Liam fluffed out the bag and slipped inside, sighing as his legs were stretched out of their bent position of the last five minutes. He zipped it back up as he went.

Niall smirked and lay in his own bed. "Weren't ya the one saying the shit's not glitched in like a hundred years?"

His brother blushed and cleared his throat, taking off his glasses. He made a show of cleaning them. "W-well you know—Malik Ind.'s standard grade stuff hasn't—god you're the tech shop owner why am I saying this?"

"'Cause it makes ya look stupid?" Niall managed a grin.

Liam tossed a pillow at his face. "Shut up."

"Real mature," Niall turned on his back and let out a breath, "besides my shop's fer software updates and replacing broken, out of date shit - not viruses - they don't exist anymore like ya said." He looked sideway's at Liam. "Ya worry too much, ya act like I'm fucking glass."

Liam sighed. "I can't help it, it's my fault you're like this in the first place… If I hadn't-"

The blonde shook his head, face going carefully blank. "Don't finish that sentence," his voice was a whisper.

The brunette peered over at him with a furrow in his brow and nodded. "Okay." He hummed in the back of his throat. "How'd you fall anyway?"

Grateful for the topic change Niall gave his brother a small smile. "Couldn't see where I was going."

Liam looked confused. "What do you mean? Someone blindfold you?"

Niall shook his head. "No. I  _couldn't_  see, my optic nerves went out."

Liam's eyes widened and he shot up from where he lay in his sleeping bag. "You were blind?!"

Niall shrugged and faced the other wall. "Only for a minute."

"Niall, you have to stop this. Promise me you'll stop JAAKing."

The blonde waved a hand noncommittally through the air. "I promise. Now go to sleep yeah?"

Liam rubbed the bridge of his nose but lay back down in his sleeping bag. Niall knew Liam didn't believe him, hell, he didn't believe himself. But there really was nothing either of them could do about it was there?

_Worthless. Worthless. Pathetic. Pathetic. Go die. Go drown. No one would care._

Niall closed his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**-Sex is in Our Veins (But love is in Our Memories)-**

Niall woke up to pounding on his wall and jumping on his bed.  _The fuck?_  He knew that voice though.  _Celia_ , his sleep addled brain provided,  _his niece._

"Up and at 'em! Up and at 'em Uncle Ni!" A high pitched girly voice yelled into the blondes ear.

"Mmm?" He grumbled scrunching his nose and creasing his brow. The young girl just jumped harder. "Wake! Up!" She punctuated each word with a leap. "We're going shopping together!"

"What?" He opened his eyes blurrily and the guest room slowly came into focus. He groaned still not ready to give his niece his full attention and pulled the covers further over his face to try and block out the noise. Celia was having none of it though. She pouted and gripped the duvet, a simple red and black plaid ensemble, and pulled.  _Hard._  Needless to say the little girl was strong for her five years and his duvet went flying off his body; the little girl landed at the foot of the bed with a soft "oof!"

Niall sighed and sat up on his elbows, defeated. He blinked a few times and slapped his cheeks in an only slightly successful attempt at waking himself up fully. "What about school?" He asked, voice raspy with sleep, and running a hand through his unruly locks that he could feel sticking up haphazardly on his head.

Celia shrugged. "Mum said as long as I was back by two it would be okay."

He nodded and ruffled her short brown hair, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She was a cute little girl, with Danielle's round eyes and Liam's easy smile and he absolutely adored her. She was one of the few people he fought back the numbness for. One of the people he didn't want to miss a single emotion for. She was sweet and innocent and didn't deserve the apathy he gave virtually everyone else. With Celia he was almost like the old Niall.

_Almost._

There was still a certain sadness and melancholy that clung to him. The way he walked, the way he talked; the way he smiled with her like every moment was beautiful but tragically,  _horribly_ , bittersweet. Because he knew one of these days something was going to happen. Something would trigger him to lock up. Someone would say something to send him under. Make him panic. And she'd see who he really was. Broken. Wrecked. Pathetic. Wasted. Hopeless.

_Worthless._

And he'd hurt her. He knows he would, because that's what he did, he pushed the people he cared about away, he made them regret ever wanting him and if they stayed he'd try his damnedest to make them see him how he saw himself; let them get on with their lives.

Niall shook his head and stretched out his legs, curling his toes and wrinkling the bed sheet he was on. "Okay."

Celia smiled and hopped off the bed - her floral sundress billowing out like an umbrella - before landing on the ground with an unsteady hop. She turned and beamed at him, holding out her hands. "Come on! Daddy's making pancakes!"

Niall shook his head and stood up, feet coming to rest on the cold, smooth, hardwood floor. "Alright, alright, I'm coming," he took her hand and if possible her smile grew even wider, showing off her missing teeth. He smiled down at her fondly. "Lead the way jitterbug."

She nodded fervently and quickly turned, pulling him along and almost tripping over her own two feet in her haste.

The blonde chuckled, softly. "Slow down kiddo, they're just pancakes."

Celia paused at the door and spun around, looking betrayed. "Just pancakes?!" She gasped, affronted and clutched her chest. "They're  _Daddy's_  pancakes," she said like that fact alone made all the difference. Which Niall supposed it did to her. Truthfully, he'd had Liam's pancakes before and honestly they were pretty ordinary if you asked him, but he wouldn't burst her bubble, so he indulged her anyway. It wasn't like he could taste the difference anymore.

Niall raised his hands in a placating gesture and smacked his forehead. "Of course!" He exclaimed. "How could I forget, your daddy's pancakes are amazing!"

Celia nodded proudly and stretched her arms out. "Carry me, NiNi! It's what you get for forgetting!"

Niall rolled his eyes but bent down to scoop the girl up into his arms. "Yeah, yeah your highness."

She giggled and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Onward!"

Niall grinned and walked out the sliding door and down the hall where the smell of food wafted towards his nose. His stomach growled. He was absolutely starving.

"NiNi's hungry!" The little girl sing-songed.

"Yeah I am," Niall told her, hoisting the little girl higher in his arms as she began to slip down. JAAKLag caught up to him, and everything hit him hard. His throat was dry with thirst and his stomach quivered in his belly. He actually had to stop for a moment seeing as he'd begun shaking.  _Shit._

Celia poked his cheek. "Are you okay?" She cupped his face in her tiny hands and looked in his blue eyes with her own hazel.

"I'm fine," he gritted out with a forced smile, "Just gettin' a little heavy is all."

"Oh," she frowned. "Put me down then!"

"Ya sure?"

She nodded and Niall gratefully put her down, letting out a relieved breath. Celia dashed ahead of him and Niall shakily made his way to the kitchen table where he promptly sat down in the first empty seat, hands clenched in his lap to stop his obvious trembling. He leaned back in the seat, resting his neck on the rounded faux wood edge lining of the cushioned seat.

After the third World War much of the ground known as Old Earth (where Old Dublin now rested in its decaying state) that Middle and New Earth were built on top of, was decimated forcing a strict new regiment in resource conservation. This meant no more cutting of trees, no more paper, no more wood fires. People couldn't travel most of the Old World because of left over radiation levels and if it weren't for Malik Ind. technological advancements during this time the human race would be extinct. There'd be no way of getting large quantities of fresh water from the oceans. There would be no Middle and New World. No Middle and New Dublin. Without Malik's Field Tech the altitude the where the cities rested would make human life impossible. The air too thin and cold.

Liam glanced behind him when he heard them enter. "There's hot water in the kettle and some Lady Gray on the table," he said gesturing with a spatula at the aforementioned items.

Niall nodded and grabbed a packet of tea and his cup, before taking the few steps to the stove. He grabbed the kettle, and turned it around in his hands for a moment. "One of dads?" He poured the hot water into the cup and set the kettle back down. Liam hummed in agreement.

"Milk n' sugar?" The blonde asked.

Liam jerked his head to the right. "On the counter."

Niall stepped around him and grabbed a spoon from the drawer before spooning in a copious amount of sugar and enough milk to turn the black tea a light mocha color. He sighed as he stirred. He didn't know why he did it, probably out of habit. The blonde went to sit down.

Niall grabbed the silver fork in front of him, engraved with the Payne family crest, a crown flocked on the sides by two doves with a spear between their closed talons, and twirled it between his thumb and middle finger. He breathed out slowly, he'd asked if Liam knew what the sigil meant when the brunette inherited the Payne's estate in New Dublin after their shared father died, but he hadn't known either.  _Never bothered to ask_  he'd said looking forlornly out the window. Niall had just nodded and dropped the subject, rubbing Liam's back and helping him pack the things he was taking with him up.

It had been an awkward affair, he remembered, considering he was the bastard child, the kid from the  _"other woman";_  people at the funeral kept giving him backward glances and barely suppressed grimaces, like he was tainting the ground he stood on. Honestly he hadn't wanted to come in the first place, Niall hadn't really known the man, he only knew him as the shadowy figure who'd come by his and his mother's flat once a month with some money, ruffle his hair and leave. He'd been confused for a time - maybe a little hurt as well - but he'd grown out of it, and he couldn't really say he'd mourned his death. Sure he'd felt sympathetic towards those who  _were_  but at the time he just couldn't bring himself to shed a tear. He still couldn't.

But Liam had asked him to come and Niall couldn't refuse him. They'd only just become friends, the two finally able to put the issue of their different mothers behind them and he hadn't wanted to risk all their progress by saying no. So he'd come and that was the day he'd felt they'd truly become  _brothers,_  leaning on each other as one dealt with the pain of loss and the other gave a comforting shoulder. It was the day they finally evolved from the forced acquaintances that barely tolerated each other at school to something more. Unbreakable.

Niall turned his head, watching as Liam busied himself over by the stove, sun filtering in through an open window and warming his face. Celia bounced in her seat, humming tunelessly and observed her father with wide, captivated eyes. Like it was a show.  _It is,_  his mind whispered to himself,  _they've got Androids and SERVEBots to do all this for them, seeing her dad in the kitchen would be a treat for her._  The room was elegant and classy just like every other inch of the house, with a real wood dining room table (an heirloom from their father) as the center piece carved and waxed to perfection. The legs spiraled down touching the ground and spreading out with a flourish. It was kept in near perfect condition.

An old display cabinet (also made of wood) storing their china stood against the wall and a Persian rug lay bare under their feet. Liam turned from where he was making pancakes, batter smeared against his forehead and hands, apron slightly askew on his chest, and smiled brightly at Niall, brown eyes bright and warm.

He rubbed his hands together and wiped the sweat off his brow. "Good morning Nialler," he said coming over with a pan and dropping four medium sized cakes on his plate. The smell of them wafted fully into his nose and his stomach growled loudly.

At that moment he couldn't help but silently agree with his niece: Liam's pancakes were the most amazing thing on the planet. Sure they were nowhere near perfect, their shape was closer to a psychedelic "L" than a circle, and one side of them was definitely a few shades browner than the other, but it wasn't burnt and it was still _food_  and like Niall'd just said.  _They. Smelled. Fucking. Amazing._  and he craved them like nothing else. Liam laughed. "Hungry?"

Niall nodded, mouth watering not in the least ashamed by his body's actions. Honestly he was pretty sure someone could've thrust the most foul smelling thing on the planet in front of him and still at least thought about eating it. "Starved."

"Well go on then have at it," he said while doling out a stack for his daughter and then himself before setting down the pan and bringing the butter and syrup from the counter.

"Maple or strawberry?" The brunette asked holding the two up and looking at Niall expectantly.

Niall shrugged, cutting into his first "L". "Doesn't matter."  _Can't taste anyway_  was written in his eyes.

Liam coughed, his collar turning a light shade of pink. Niall smirked at his embarrassment. He got embarrassed too easily, but it was always fun to see. "Right. Forgot." He handed him the maple, Niall took it and poured a generous helping onto his remaining cakes before looking over at Celia questioningly. "You want maple?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

She nodded exuberantly and Niall chuckled before sliding it over to the little girl. She caught it in her petite hands and with her tongue sticking out in concentration, carefully poured some onto the corner of her plate. Niall looked at her in surprise. "Why'd you do that?"

Celia put the syrup down and pushed it to the center of the table (or rather close to it) before taking her fork and knife in hand and answering. "Mommy does it. She says it's what proper young ladies do."

Niall snorted at that and Liam kicked him under the table. Niall ignored him. "Oh really?"

Celia nodded and brought a piece into her mouth. "She also says it cuts down on  _calories_ cause you don't use as much!" She said between mouthfuls. "I don't know what  _calories_  are but… they sound scary! Are they scary Uncle Ni?! Mama says they're scary!" Her cheeks were bulging and her eyes were wide.

Niall laughed, lips twitching upwards. "No they aren't scary, they're just…" He tried to think of a way to explain a measurement of energy he only really knew the basics of himself to a five year old. He scratched his head and chewed thoughtfully on another piece of pancake. He didn't taste anything as it went down but the sensation of the syrup was cool and familiar and more than welcome. "They're just… a part of life," he eventually settled on.

Celia grimaced and crossed her arms. "That's what daddy said too! You're no help Uncle Ni!"

Niall grinned and looked over at Liam. "Really?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded.

He swallowed. "Well he probably knows as much about them as I do."

"I thought you were smart," she grumbled glaring down at her plate. "You always come to fix the things I break."

The blonde laughed. "Well tech's easier than people kid," he looked distant for a moment before whispering. "Way less drama." Liam coughed and Niall startled out of suddenly tense atmosphere. The blonde forced a smile.

"So shopping?"

It turned out shopping dictated replacing the phone Niall'd lost and so the three of them, Niall, Celia, and Liam, piled into the family Audi, a sleek four seating sports car with color changing technology and glowing rims. Liam sat in the driver's seat and Niall took up the passenger seat after strapping Celia into her car-seat after she insisted on him doing it for her.

"Top up or down?" Liam asked as they backed out of the driveway of their home, it's sleek white and futuristic exterior all lines and sharp edges.

"Down," Niall said, pushing the button on the console that turned off the field that kept the top sealed.

"Wee!" Celia giggled in the back as her hair wiped around her face.

Niall glanced over at his brother. "We needa stop by my place 'fore we go anywhere else."

Liam screwed up his face, eyes still on the road. "Why."

"Needa check on some stuff and," he glanced over his appearance, "I ain't goin' 'round Middle Dublin in yer shit. I look stupid."

Liam grimaced. "Language Niall."

The blonde shrugged. "She didn't hear."

Liam rolled his eyes. "Fine, we'll stop by your place." He scoffed, turning down on Niall's road, "since when do you care about what you look like anyway?"

"I always care, Li," the blonde tilted his head and smirked, "how d'ya think I get laid?"

Liam pulled into Niall's drive, parking the car besides Niall's motorcycle and Niall hopped out.

"I'll be right back, ten minutes tops yeah?"

Liam nodded and Celia made grabby hands. "I wanna come too!"

Niall shook his head. "Not this time kiddo, I promise I'll only be a sec 'kay?"

She pouted but nodded. "Okay."

He reached over to the back seat and ruffled her hair affectionately. "Good girl." The blonde stepped back and closed the door. He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his un-styled hair before making the trek up to his front door.

The blonde swiped his left wrist over the ID scanner and the door slid open.

"Fuck," was the first thing out of his mouth when he entered the house.  _It smelled like shit_. He supposed an impromptu vacation for a week would do that to a place. The door slid shut behind him and he quickly made a bee-line to his bedroom, hopping over bits of trash and grabbing a bag of weed he found laying on his living room coffee-table. He frowned and tossed it in his back-pocket.

His bedroom door slid open and he walked in immediately tossing his borrowed shirt over his head and walking out of his lent joggers. He left his boxers on and strode over to his closet pulling it open and taking out a simple pair of black pants, slightly baggy in the thighs and skinny on the calves and shins. Silver zipper pockets in the front and down the sides and hoops for a chain stuck on the belt loops. Throwing on a white tee with a burgundy and black square on the front, he finished up with a pair of sunglasses that he hung from the v of his shirt and a burgundy snapback and black shoes with burgundy laces.

He left his hair alone and nodded in his full length mirror before running back out the house, tossing Liam's clothes in the first free bag he found and hurrying out the door, making a mental note to air out the place later.

Liam saw Niall coming and opened the car door, raising a brow when he stepped in.

"And that's called caring?" The brunette asked looking over his appearance.

Niall grinned. "Yes it is."

Liam let out a breath and shook his head. "Whatever you say, let's just get you your phone yeah?"

 

**Sex is in Our Veins (But love is in Our Memories)**

 

The mall was surprisingly busy for a Thursday morning where Niall figured most honest and hardworking citizens of Middle Dublin would be… well…  _working._

But apparently Middle Dublin was filled to the brim with lazy bums.

Rich bums, but bums all the same.

 _That's a bit of an oxymoron isn't it?_  Niall scrunched his face and scratched the tip of his nose as he was once again shouldered rudely in the side.  _Fuck._  He could really use a blunt right now. Or a shot. Either one sounded heavenly at the moment. Another person jostled him, shoving him this time from behind, and he resisted the urge to give the ass hole the bird.  _Maybe he needed both._

Niall's lips thinned and he began to shove his hands in his pockets before he remembered he was wearing his zip up pants; his fingers ended up just running down his thighs. He groaned and pushed himself into a walled corner, hoping that would help keep people away from him. He was sorely disappointed.

He watched from his spot by the wall as Liam talked with the cell phone shop clerk. They said something and Liam turned to Celia, who pointed at Niall across the way. Niall raised a brow and Celia came running out the shop, weaving through the crowd utterly unfazed by their presence and dodging all of their limbs like they were air.

He couldn't help but feel a little peeved.

"Daddy wants to know what color you want!" She said, raising her voice to be head over the echo of the mall.

Niall shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

Celia pouted and stomped her foot on the ground shaking her head vehemently. "No! You have to choose a color!"

"Choose for me, then."

Celia just stared up at him, cheeks puffed out. Niall sighed and rolled his eyes. "Blue then," he mumbled.

The little girl beamed and ran back to the store; after a moment Niall pushed himself out of the corner to follow. He stepped away from the wall. A second later he was almost on the floor.

"Ass-hole!" He yelled over his shoulder, before hunching over and storming his way across the corridor. Oddly enough no one else seemed to touch him after his outburst. He shook his head.

Damn he _really_  needed a smoke.

 

**Sex is in Our Veins (But love is in Our Memories)**

 

Niall was messing with his new phone, adding the contacts he remembered into it before hitting up the first social networking site he could think of and advertising his new phone number. Granted he only had about ten friends who still wanted to talk to him, but still… he could only remember two of their numbers. And one of them was his brother.

Celia tugged at his pant leg and the blonde looked up. Niall raised an eyebrow at her tentative expression and put away his phone."Got somethin' ya wanna ask kiddo?"

Celia bit her lip, shuffling her feet and looking down before taking a breath. She looked up again."Can I get ice-cream? Please? I promise I won't tell daddy!" She leveled him with her signature wide puppy dog eyes.  _Damn._  Why'd she have to get that trait from Liam?

Niall laughed and put a hand on his hip. "What about the calories huh?"

"You said they weren't scary!" She crossed her arms.

The blonde held up his hands in surrender chuckling lightly and nodded. "Okay kiddo," he took her small hand is his. "Lead the way."

Celia nodded back and tugged him in the direction of a quaint little coffee shop.

"I saw they had cookie and cream!" Her eyes brightened at the very thought, "I  _have_ to  _have_ some!"

Niall snorted and shook his head. "We'll get ya cookies 'n cream then yeah?" They entered the coffee-shop and Niall bumped into someone coming out.  _God these ass-holes…_  "Oi, watch where yer-," his voice died in his throat,  _fuck,_  because  _no fucking way._  He blinked, blue eyes meeting a surprised honey gold.  _ **Fuck.**_

_Zayn._

His world tilted and he had to grab the doorway for support. Because  _shit,_  Zayn was  _here._   _Zayn_ was smack in front of him.  _Zayn, Zayn, Zayn, Zayn, Zayn._   _No!_  After six years…  _Oh god._  " _Shit,"_  he breathed out.  _This can't be happening._

Celia gasped. "Uncle Ni! Bad! You said a bad word!"

Niall trembled. "Not now jitterbug," he choked out, "Go find your dad okay?"

"But what about-,"

He turned on his niece, eyes glassy, broken and dazed. "Now!" He shouted. People looked up in the shop and Celia flinched, but he didn't care. He  _couldn't_ deal with this. He wasn't  _ready. Not right now._  Not by  _himself._  Not  _ever._  He  _couldn't deal._

Zayn's smell hit him full force in the face, a dark spicy musk overshadowed by the same cologne he'd worn ever back  _then._   _Before._  Back when they –

Niall's vision began spotting and he realized he needed to breath. He opened his mouth, but the air stuck. He couldn't  _breathe._  He couldn't  _move._  He couldn't  _look away._  He was stuck.  _No._  His palms were sweating.  _No. No._  He was trembling obviously now, and his skin was noticeably two shades lighter.  _No. No. No._  This  _wasn't supposed to happen_. This was  _never_ supposed to happen. His heart clenched in his chest and anxiety knotted his stomach.  _This_ is what he'd been avoiding for the past six years when he'd JAAK or drink or fuck random strangers in a bar or get high as a fucking kite at home. It was all so he could  _cope_ with not seeing this man anymore. Not being  _able_ to see him. At least not how he wanted to.

_Not seeing Zayn._

Celia looked down at her feet apologetically before nodding and running off in search of Liam. A pang of guilt flared in his chest for just a second,  _because this wasn't her fault,_ but it was quickly drowned by the waves of emotion surging through him at the site of this  _beautiful,_  gorgeous,  _breathtaking_ man. The  _nostalgia_. Part of him wanted to fuck him.

_Arousal._

Wanted to feel those rough hands with the gentle artistically nimble fingers against his skin once more.

Part of him wanted to hold him close and never let go.

_Longing._

Because he knew if he did, he'd disappear .

Part of him was a weeping shattered mess.

_Heartbreak._

Because he knew he'd never be chosen over Zayn's family. Over the Malik interest. He'd already proved that once by marrying Perrie.

But most of all…

Part of him wanted to punch him square in the jaw and spit on his face.

_Anger. Searing hot boiling anger._

Because he'd left him, broken and bleeding, vulnerable to world when he'd needed him most.

Niall's hands clenched at his sides and a hysterical laugh bubbled from his lips because  _really?_  What the  _fuck_ was this? What messed up God was out there forcing them back together? Who was trying to  _make_  him work through his problems? Who had the  _fucking right?!_  No one.  _Fucking no one!_  And the fact that fucking Zayn just stood there, stood there not saying anything, jaw working and eyes darting from side to side like he wanted to be anywhere but here in all his tan glory, with his  _sheik_ little suit and  _sexy_  stubble and _perfect_  fucking hair… It pissed him off. Pissed him  _the fuck off_. It made him want to hit something, really,  _really_ hard. Preferably Zayn's face.

Zayn cleared his throat and wet his lips, his hands twitching at his sides like he didn't know what to do with them. He probably didn't.  _Fuck. Those lips. Fuck those hands._ "Niall?" he asked tentatively.

Niall stopped laughing, his gaze going from slightly maniacal to steely in a heartbeat. "Malik." He ground out mustering all the apathy and hate he could. He crossed his arms, anger finally breaking through his shock and leaned in the doorway because, no, this couldn't be happening. He blinked, but he was still there. Fuck. This couldn't fucking happen! Why was he out of New Dublin? He'd barely set foot in that city because he knew there'd be no way to avoid him forever.

"Niall I-,"

The blonde held up his hand. "Save it," he spat, "Yer too late," he turned and saw Celia coming towards him with Liam in tow looking slightly frantic.

"Six years too late," he drawled pushing off the doorway and strutting away, leaving Zayn gaping behind him. He smirked to himself, somehow leaving Zayn a sputtering mess behind him made him feel more alive than he'd felt in  _years._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**-Sex is in Our Veins (But love is in Our Memories)-**

_**Y** _ **ear 2201**

**Stars and Glamour Tabloid**

**Special Report! Tainted Love?**

**By Nick Grimshaw**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**MALIK AND MYSTERY BLONDE! TAINTED LOVE?!**

_That's right folks! You heard it here first! Golden-boy Zayn Javadd Malik was seen in Middle Dublin today interacting heatedly with, as witnesses described as, an unstable blonde male, looking to be in his early twenties! The two bumped into each other upon entering and exiting a quaint little coffee shop at New Plaza Mall where the two were said to have stood frozen in shock for more than a mere moment!_

_Looks like there's something behind that huh?_

_Anyway, after the blonde yelled at his niece (the two have now been ID'd as Niall Horan and Celia Payne, the former said to frequent Old Dublin pubs quiet excessively, coping from a bad break up eh?), he is said to have started laughing hysterically at nothing like well, a raging lunatic, stopping just as suddenly when Malik finally spoke to him. Sadly the lad only got in a few words before being cut off. Saying "It was too late." "Six years too late."_

  
_Oooo, steamy huh? We'll just have to see how this develops! We'll keep you updated on this ravishing 23_   _rd_   _century affair!_

_Remember Stars and Glamour! Your one-stop on all things steamy in New Dublin!_

**-Sex is in Our Veins (But love is in Our Memories)-**

Niall positively collapsed the moment they reached Liam's car, the entire situation with Zayn finally truly hitting home. He rested his head against the hood of the car.

" _Fuck!"_  His foot hit the side of the car with a loud clang. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!  _Fucking Fuck!_ " Each "fuck" punctuated with another kick.

Liam finished strapping in his daughter and quickly strode over to his brother, wrapping his arms around his torso, keeping him immobile.

"Whoa, whoa, Nialler, breathe." He commanded gently.

"I- I  _can't_ ," he rasped out, " _Shit,_  I c- can't  _f-f-fuckin' b-breathe_." He gasped and his fingers twitched where they were stuck by sides. His chest rose and fell rapidly, heart beating like a jackhammer in his chest. Large salty tears ran down his face but he didn't even feel them.

"Yes you can," Liam said calmly. "Come on Niall, with me," He pressed Niall's chest against his own, hand flat against his sternum. "In," he inhaled exaggeratedly. "Out."

"In. Out," he repeated the process until Niall slowly began to copy him and his body came more under his control. "That's it." Liam said as the tension left his brother's body.

"I can't deal with this Liam," Niall whispered softly, forehead resting against the cool white hood of the car. "I just can't. Why can't I forget?"

"Fuck, Niall…" The brunette puffed out a breath and turned him around in his arms until they were looking eye to eye. "Yes. You. Can." He said firmly cupping Niall's face in his hands. "You can and you will okay?"

Niall didn't respond at first, eyes looking far away and lost. "Niall." Liam snapped his fingers in the blonde's face.

The blonde blinked and nodded slowly. "Okay."

Liam nodded back. "Okay, get in the car and I'll get you home yeah?"

Niall nods again, head bobbing robotically, and Liam lets him go, standing by him until he's safely situated in the car. Liam sighs and walks to the other side of the vehicle, stepping in and driving away.

Niall is eerily quiet the whole drive back, and not in his usual way either. He was quiet in a dead way, like there was absolutely nothing left inside of him to burn. Liam kept glancing at him worriedly, he didn't care though, he just kept his eyes on his hands. Broken. Chipped nails. Just like him. He snorted hollowly.

"Take me home," he whispered, rubbing over his fingers.

"I am," Liam replied.

"No. Not  _yer_  home,  _my_ home, I mean it."

"Niall I don't think-"

"That's right.  _Don't think!_  Don't fuckin' think about it and take me home!" He snapped turning on his brother. "I need to be alone. I can't – if yer –," he let out a frustrated breath and raked his hands through his hair. "Please just take me home."

Liam regarded him for a moment. "I'm going to regret this," he mumbled. "Alright, but I'm checking on you first thing in the morning. If you aren't there I'm calling the fucking police."

Niall nodded.

The rest of the car drive was silent and tense. The skies above had turned a stormy gray as if empathizing with Niall's inner demons. Liam drove up Niall's drive and stalled the car, leaving it on idle.

Niall opened the door and let the cool air brush against them. It ruffled his hair and Niall bit his lip. "Thanks Liam."

The brunette smiled sadly. "No problem."

Niall looked up at him and there was a look of pain. A look of finality that shook Liam to his core. "I mean for everything," he whispered. "Good-bye."

Niall closed the door and walked over to his front door as the first drops of rain began to fall. He swiped his BRACKet across the ID pad.

**Niall Horan Identified. Please Proceed**

The door swung open.

His BRACKet beeped as he stepped past the threshold. He looked down and lifted his left wrist. The small square that monitored his mental health flashed from green to red, then stayed.

**Warning: Depression High Probability For Suicide. Highly Un-Stable. Recommending Immediate Psychological Examination. Warning. Warning. Warning**

Niall snorted and ignored the warning, he already knew what he was going to do.

Get high as a fucking kite.

Get stone-faced drunk.

And kill himself in morning or maybe tonight if he was lucky.

The blonde smirked to himself.

"Well let's get started."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**-Sex is in Our Veins (But love is in Our Memories)-**

His eyes were red and he couldn't stop laughing as he made his way down the street. He tripped over a can.  _He laughed._  He saw a tree fucking an elephant in a pokka dot jumpsuit. Well that wasn't a usual side-effect. The weed must've been laced.  _He laughed hysterically._ Everything was just. So. Fucking.  _Funny!_

He stumbled into the first pub he saw which happened to be  _Style's Place._   _Wait…_ He eyes narrowed.  _Wasn't that in Old Dublin?_  A giggle burst through his lips.  _How the hell had he gotten down here?_ He couldn't hold it back and laughed loudly before strutting inside of the building. Everyone turned to look at him when they heard the raucous laughter. They stared at him like he was crazy. Good  _god,_  they were right, and it was hilarious!

"HI!" he said loudly, pupils blown and smile wide and infectious before stumbling over to the bar. He slumped down into the stool. "HAAAARRRY! HARRY! COME ON! I WANNA GET DRUNK!"

His head lolled to the side and he blinked, then the next thing he knew Harry, the owner, was standing in front of him, looking at him quizzically.

"Mate," he drawled looking at him with a furrowed brow, "I think you're already there."

Niall laughed cause… it was funny! "Nah, I'm not!"

Harry gazed at him with unimpressed eyes.

"I swear!" the blonde crossed his heart.

"Then what the fuck are ya on yeah?" Harry asked drying a cup with a towel.

"I'm hiiiigh!" Niall leaned back in his seat. "HIGH AS A FUCKIN' KITE YEAH!" Niall let go of the bar and spread his arms out wide almost falling if not for Harry's quick reflexes.

"Whoa man, you're not fucking high, who the hell gave you that stuff?"

Niall grinned and shrugged. "Dun' know, just had it lyin' 'round." He brought out a small bag and left it on the table. "Want some."

Harry took the bag. "No fuckin' way, but you aren't getting' anymore either."

Niall pouted before finding that funny as well and laughing some more. Then he seemed to remember why he was here. "Booze Harry. Gimmee booze." He slurred

The curly haired lad shook his head. "Uh-uh, you're way too high right now, go home."

Niall whimpered. "Fine," he sighed dejectedly and made to leave, waiting for Harry to turn his back on him before vaulting over the bar and grabbing the first bottle he could find.  _Vodka._  Niall shrugged an giggled tipping it back and chugging eagerly.

"Hey!" Harry said whipping around at the noise. Niall gaped comically and began running around the pub, Harry behind him, bottle in hand.

"Weeeeee!" He yelled hysterically between gulps, going as fast as he can until the entire bottle is empty. He stops. "Whoa." He turns to Harry. "Why's s'everything soooo spinny?"

Harry finally reaches Niall and takes the now empty bottle from his hands. "You need to go home." He says. "Now."

Niall nods. "Yeah. Home. Home. Home." He repeats numbly and walking towards the door. He pushes it open with his left hand and his shirt runs down revealing his BRACKet. Harry's eyes widen when he sees it blinking red.

"Wait! Ni-," But he's already out the door.

"Fuck," He takes out his phone and dials.

Niall doesn't know who the bloke is that's fucking him, but right now all he can say is that it  _feels fucking amazing._ The alcohol makes him warm, and the drugs make him euphoric and the way he's being pounded and owned is absolutely breathtaking. Just what he needed. Just like always.

"Mmm," He moans, back arching off the bed. "So good," he mutters drooling slightly.

Hands run down his sides, another is on his nipple; he feels someone else sucking him off and blearily he wonders when more people came, but then he can't think, can't do anything but feel, because it's all so  _good_ and fills him with a sense of wholeness that he's missing every other second of the day.

Someone kisses him and he moans into it as their tongue force his lips open. He feels a cock by his hand and he grabs it, stroking languidly. Suddenly he's off the bed and the scene shifts and he's against the wall being pounded into mercilessly and someone bites his neck.

"Zayn!" He cries out, as the feeling runs through him like an electric shock and he cums on the plaster. The man inside of him groans and it's obviously not Zayn but they don't care about that, he just keeps fucking into him until he cums coating Niall's walls and filling him up. Niall moans at the sensation.

He slumps to the floor, his hole pulsing when the first one leaves and the man laughs.

"Look at 'im, fuckin' slut, he's gaggin' for it."

Another voice joins in and laughs as well. "Well at least he's cute."

"Hmmm, think you can get 'im up again? I wanna try riding him."

Niall feels his body get shifted and his hands are pulled over his head. A mouth encircles his nipple, nipping and sucking, pulling and swirling their tongue around the nub until he's a moaning mess, until they're swollen and sensitive to the point it hurts. He can slowly feel himself coming back to life. His legs are spread open and fingers thrust into him and Niall clenches around them possessively, bucking his hips, drilling them in deeper.

"M-more," Niall gasps out, chest blotchy with blush and rough touches. "Give me more," his eyes start to tear at all the teasing. There's a mouth on his cock again and fingers on his other nipple. Someone else is sucking on his neck, lapping at the mark the first one left.

The men laughed. "See, he's such a fag, gaggin' for our dicks."

"Yes!" Niall moans, eyes squeezed shut as euphoria hits him again and again. "Worthless." He mumbles out. "Nothing. I'm a slut. Just fuck me.  _Please!_ "

One of them sucks in a breath. "Damn. That's hot." The others murmur in agreement.

"Well what are you waiting for? Give the man what he wants."

Niall almost cried with relief when he's filled again, the feel of the burn coursing through him like the most sinful pleasure. This one is bigger than the first, but it's okay, because it still feels fucking good.

"Damn, look at him all spread out and eager, I bet his eyes are squeezed shut."

"Should we take off the blindfold?"

"Nah leave it, the bitch likes it." The man inside him gave a thrust of his hips. "Don't'cha."

Niall moaned. "Y-yes. I like it. Love it. More. More, more, more, more."

"See, now Josh, ya wanted ta ride 'im yeah? Hop on it."

A tight warmth squeezed around Niall and he gasped as the man, Josh, started to move.

"There ya go." The other man said and began pounding into him harder.

" _Ohmygod,ohmygod,ohmygod_ ," Is all that came from Niall's mouth, arms pinned, eyes bound, being ridden and being fucked, nails raking against his sides.

It was bliss.

And he never wanted it to fucking end.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**-Sex is in Our Veins (But love is in Our Memories)-**

Morning came and Niall groaned, his head pounding.

"Fuck," his mouth felt gummy, and his ass was sore, the muscle screaming in pain if he even twitched his legs. He pulled at the restraints on his arms, which thankfully were tied very loosely around him and took off the blind fold. He blinked and groaned at the light, before looking down at his body. Scratches and bite marks littered his skin. Finger shaped bruises colored his hips and in the cold air his nipples stood erect and still slightly red. He could only imagine what his neck looked like. He drew his attention to the room

The three men from the night before were gone, he vaguely remembered kicking them out sometime after midnight, but an empty lube bottle lay on the floor, and his clothes were scattered everywhere. Niall cracked his neck, and rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension between his bones and looked down at his left wrist. Still red.

**Warning: Warning: Depression. Suicide. Seek Immediate Counsel**

Niall ignored it and crawled over to where he saw a pair of joggers slipping them on with a moan. His ass felt sticky and when he dragged himself to his feet with a pained cry he felt some still not dry spunk slipping down his leg.  _Gross._  He let them fucking cum in him?

He waddled out his room and into the kitchen, wincing with every step. He set on his goal though.  _Knife._  It was the only thing that ran though his mind. He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a pot, filling it with water and setting it to boil. He then found a used kitchen knife on the counter and after running the blade under some water, cleaning it, lay that beside the pot.

Now all he had to do was wait.

He leaned back against the wall, determined not to move from this spot until the water was bubbling but then the bell rang. Niall froze.

He glanced at the clock, it was nine o'clock and there was no way to deter him either, Niall had set his brother's ID up as a secondary key. If he didn't answer he could just swipe his own BRACKet over the IDpad.

"Dammit." Better get this over with now. He began hobbling towards the door. "Coming!" He yelled.

He finally reached the door and took a breath collecting himself before pressing the console beside him and letting it slide open.

"Fuck, Liam why-," he looked up and froze in his place. "You're not Liam," he whispered.

Zayn looked down at him, light scruff on his jaw, body language the epitome of relaxed, gold eyes betraying nothing. But there were cracks in his façade. Niall could see them in the way Zayn wet his lips, gulped, and casually loosened the collar of his shirt. "No," he replied evenly, voice still as smooth, seductively dark and direct as he remembered. The same voice that never would take no for an answer. _Shit._  Niall shivered.

Niall moved to shut the door but Zayn stuck his foot in, keeping it from sliding closed.

"Look, Niall-,"

Niall glared. "Go away." He pressed the console again and once again the door slid into Zayn's leg. The raven haired man winced, "how the hell do you know where I live anyway?"

"Liam," Zayn gritted out offhandedly as he pushed his shoulder through the threshold. Niall blocked him from getting all the way in. Zayn let out a sigh and raised his arms in a placating gesture. "I just want to talk."

Niall shook his head. "No way, ya know how fucked up I was after that shit? I was a fuckin' wreck I still am!" The blonde exclaimed.

"I know and I'm sorry but-,"

" _Sorry?!_  You think a fuckin'  _sorry's_ gonna cut it after all this time?!" Niall growled angrily. " _Man,_  you're sick. Fuckin'  _sick._   _Six years._  Six fuckin' years you left me and I'm still not over ya! And for that cock sucking bitch Perrie! What the hell!" He jabbed a finger into Zayn's chest. "Ya know what I was about to do when yer sorry ass barged in?! I was gonna kill myself. Slit my wrists and end it cause of _you,_ but you even had to come and fuck that up too!"

Zayn took a step back like he'd been slapped when Niall's words sunk in, the first real sign that Niall was getting to him, breaking though the mask that was Zayn Malik the gold eyed corporate ruler and into Zayn Malik the twenty-seven year old man who'd fucked up royally. The realization sent a thrill of power through Niall and he grinned sadistically.

"That's right, got the pot boiling and everything. I was gonna shove my wrist in and  _scream when the blade cut me fuckin' open,_  cursin' the day I ever met ya, cursin' the days we had together, cursing the day ya were fuckin' born." He spit and Zayn flinched as every word cut through him like a knife. And inside each blow to Zayn was like sweet liquor to his soul.

"Ya wanna talk? Ya wanna fuckin' talk _fine!"_ He moved his finger from the console and the door slid open; Zayn stumbled inside. "Talk away!"

The door closed behind him and Zayn stood there shocked. Eyes wide and full of hurt and surprise; that only angered Niall more.  _Bitch._  Zayn reached out for Niall, but dropped his hand halfway knowing he'd only be rejected. Malik looked to the floor. "Niall I-," He bit his lip, speaking slowly, nose crinkling the way it always did when he was thinking, never wanting to rush and say something stupid. To make his words count and to use as few as possible. Simple. Clear. Direct. To the point, and Niall hated how that sent a pang of nostalgia through him.

"I don't love her," he finally whispered, still looking at the floor. He seemed younger and more vulnerable than Niall'd ever seen him in his life.

The blonde scoffed and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "No shit Sherlock."

"I- I want to… ," He took a breath, and shook his head, chocolate voice strong but tender -- hands clenched into fists as he found his rhythm -- the familiar authority he always commanded, "…  _need_  to be with you," Zayn's voice was raw with emotion, his shoulders tense as he slumped against the door. " _let me try again_."

"Yeah well we all know what'cha  _need_ and what you  _do_  are two completely different things. You’re still not leaving her for me and you never will." Niall stated plainly. "Nothing's changed. Get out,” He pointed at the door, “ _Get the fuck out_."

Zayn finally looked up, eyes wide and pleading. "Niall, please…" Zayn looked so lost and torn and just… just…  _broken._  It was fucking _beautiful_. Niall smirked to himself. He  _loved_ it. He loved seeing Zayn like this, pliant beneath  _his_ words, beneath  _his_ _will,_ forced to play by _his_ rules. For once in his life, he had the control over _everything_.  _Worthless_  Niall had the virtual  _prince of the fucking world_  practically  _begging_  at his feet.

Niall shook his head, a sadistic glee thrilling through his fingers that made the blood roar in his veins. "No. I'm done.  I'm not lettin' ya fuck with me again." He turned around and Zayn whimpered, fucking _whimpered_ , behind him, sounding pained and broken as he began to walk away. He snorted derisively, his heart swelling with warmth, with life,  _true life,_   _true_ control for the first time in six years.  _See how he likes it._  See how Zayn felt being the dirt beneath someone's feet. This was fucking  _nothing._  Nothing compared to the  _utter humiliation_  Niall had suffered under the wrath of Zayn's family and  _Zayn_ himself. He'd abandoned him.  _Betrayed_  him and now after  _six_ years,  _two thousand one hundred and ninety one days,_  he came crawling back? _Hell no._

Zayn stumbled behind him and grabbed his wrist."Niall," a wrecked breath left Zayn's mouth, _“Please,”_ and that  _sound_. That  _noise._  The breath of Malik Ind.'s Golden boy utterly breaking beneath him… It did  _something_  to him. Something horrible but so wonderfully  _good_ at the same time.

And he'd do anything to hear it again.

So Niall stopped and turned around, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

There was a pause and Zayn looked up at him silently, surprise written all over his face and he shakily rose to his full height. He was a couple inches taller than Niall himself, but in that moment it didn't seem that way. It seemed like Niall  _towered_  over _Zayn._  Like Zayn was a _small_ meek mouse. The _prey_. Subservient, and _Niall_ … Niall was the  _hunter_ , the master. It turned him on to no end. Niall licked his lips and amber eyes tracked the movement.

"Well?" Niall finally asked, voice coming out husky and softer than he intended. He wasn't going to start this. No. Not this time. This time Zayn had to come to  _him._

And he did.

Tentatively Zayn raised a hand, cupping Niall’s face and brushing his thumb against his cheek; his Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat and his free hand trembled at his side. Zayn breathed out, his tongue swiping against his dry parted lips nervously. Their eyes were locked on each other’s, blue and gold, neither blinking, neither looking away, hardly daring to breath, fearing the moment would break. Niall knew Zayn wanted to move forward, the blonde could see it in the way his shoulders tensed in his blazer and in how his left hand twitched at his side with aborted movements.

Niall breathed in, closing his eyes before slowly raising his own hand and entwining it with the one still petting his cheek lightly. He gave it a squeeze, nodding minutely. _It’s okay._ It said. _Come to me._ Zayn’s breath hitched and he squeezed back; Niall opened his eyes. The raven-haired man leaned forward. Zayn's lips brushed against his own and Niall smirked.

His BRACKet turned green.

_God he was gonna fuckin' ruin him._

And boy would he love every second of it.

 

* * *

 


	2. Sex is in Our Veins (But Lost Ourselves in Our Memories)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do ya trust me?” Niall whispered, the moment strangely intimate.  
> "Yes,” Zayn said, “I always have."  
> “Good,” Niall opened his eyes and moved his hand back up to cup Zayn’s prickly cheek, “that’s stupid as fuck but good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back~
> 
> Warnings:// Domination, Slash, Powerplay, mental instability, and language. It could be said that Niall was manipulated into this as well due to his recent suicide watch. So DubCon in play as well. Get ready for like what? 5-6k words of emotional sexy times.

**Sex is in Our Veins (But Lost Ourselves in Our Memories)**

 

**_New Dublin University of Business and Technology_ **

**_Archive: Course 25469_ **

**_FieldS1_ **

**Basics of FIELD Science**

 

_Hello everyone and welcome to this introductory course on the nature of our newest technological resource FIELDS. Upon completion of this class you will have a basic understanding of what a FIELD is, how it is generated and some of the myriad of uses FIELDS are used for today. Let us begin._

 

**What is a FIELD?**

 

_Before we begin, let us preface with this statement: FIELD’S come in many different types (or states of being) and can be manipulated into virtually any form and appropriated for virtually any purpose imaginable. Everything has a natural FIELD surrounding it, this technology just allows us as a society to replicate that latent potential energy surrounding everything and use it as power. The most common state or form is the ELECTRON Field._

 

_An ELECTRON Field or E-FIELD, is created by harnessing the left over electrical charges between molecules and atoms and containing them in a non lethal and solid state. This FIELD is generated for uses such as the screens for your phones, doors, and of course to power homes, cars and any other item that projects light. Manipulating its density allows for the shade to vary from being translucent to opaque._

 

_Secondly we have GRAVITY Fields or G-FIELD’s. Now to properly understand the workings of a G-FIELD one must remember the concept of everything having a FIELD. This G-FIELD taps into an object/beings PERSONAL FIELD (the barrier that protects them and keeps them grounded to our planet) and then manipulates it._

 

_This is the most dangerous FIELD, for manipulating P-FIELDS can have very nasty side effects (see course FIELDs1B) but it is brought up only for the fact that these are the FIELDS weapons of the Third World War were made of. It’s how they accomplished the G-Bombs that utterly decemated the battlefield and replicated the Black Holes effect to suck and destroy everything within its radius._

 

_FIELDS are the way of the future, but remember students, it’s only as good as it helps..._

 

**< <END ARCHIVE>>**

 

**-Sex is in Our Veins (But Lost Ourselves in Our Memories)-**

 

Niall’s back slammed into the front door, his lips parting in a shocked gasp as icy cold traveled up his spine. His blonde hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and his heart pounded in his chest. The cool metal slid against his slick overheated skin—a welcome balm against the roaring fire in his veins and his chest rose and fell quickly. Niall’s pale adept fingers coasted against the smooth fabric of Zayn’s blazer— _up, down, up, down, up, down_ —feeling the lean power chording in his arms, the muscles tensing under his rapid touch. A rosy blush ran down the nape of the blonde’s neck—tendrils of his fiery pulse, his _blood_ , his _desire,_ his _lust_ —blooming in a deep vibrant red against his collarbone. Zayn’s tongue ran over his own and he shivered, teeth nipping at Zayn’s top lip.

 

_How the fuck did this happen?_

 

His heart clenched. _Rage? Anger? Passion?_ Was this passion? Could this be considered anything other than a fuck? The mind numbing touches. The scorching ardor in his veins that burned like sweet, sweet liquor—a horrible addiction, a vice he knew he shouldn’t crave yet couldn’t resist. _More. More. More._ His body screamed but— 

 

 _No._ He bit back a moan and pushed forward, forcing the both of them back—stumbling away from the door and into the hallway, their lips still connected. He knew _how._ Rather, the question was: _How did they end up like_ ** _this?_** _Making out and aching so wantonly for each other?_ His fingers tightened against Zayn’s shoulders. 

 

The question festered in his mind; whispered in his ear. Niall couldn’t help but wonder _why_ as he pulled off Zayn’s blazer and haphazardly threw it to the ground. _Why now?_ Part of him _(the sane part)_ wanted to scream _. Why him?_ Part of him _(the romantic part)_ wanted to cry. _Why not?_ Part of him _(the part that screamed revenge and bloody murder at the top of its lungs)_ wanted to drag his nails down Zayn’s back hard enough to draw blood. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to be drawn into the same ridiculous game from six years ago. The game where Niall lets Zayn in and Zayn throws his heart into the fire. _No._ He wanted Zayn to feel his pain. He wanted him to suffer. But… he _couldn’t._  

 

Niall’s hands shook at their sides. He didn’t know _how_ to react—how he _felt._ He’d told himself Zayn hadn’t loved him. That he was just a fuck. Convenient and willing. _But. Here. He. Was._ And that was the scary part. _Shit._ What was appropriate? What was not? It was terrifying to think that even after all the time that had passed the two could fall back into each other’s arms like no time had passed at all.

 

It made his stomach tighten and his chest clench in a sickening way. Zayn nibbled down his neck. Niall whimpered and grit his teeth just a little tighter.

 

Like magnets, opposites attract. Like a plant starving for water, they couldn’t help but drink each other up. To taste. To feel. To breath. To see. His heart ached for Zayn in a way his mind knew was unhealthy. His mind screamed that this was wrong, yet his heart could only let him drown once more. 

 

Zayn’s tongue slipped through his lips. His hands ran down Niall’s exposed chest, groping and mapping the skin like he couldn’t get enough, like the moment would end if he stopped for just a second. _Maybe it would._ Niall kissed him back and smirked as his teeth nipped and pulled at Zayn’s bottom lip. The low moans escaping the caramel colored man only added fuel to his growing ego. They fell against the hallway wall, the pictures beside them shaking at the impact—Zayn’s body boxing Niall’s in.

 

Desperate, but tentative, Zayn’s rough fingers wrapped around Niall’s wrists – _dominating_ – and his stomach tightened as a shock ran through him. Even after six years they still fit so well together. Perfectly even. _How?_  

 

Niall’s breath left his lips in a quick whoosh. His mouth opened and Zayn’s tongue darted through. Their mouth’s molded and melded together, open to the aggressive touch of the other’s need. _The bite of their teeth. The run of their tongues._ Their bodies were plastered together, locked like glue. _The line of their hips. The feel of their hands. The slot of their lips._ Everything was the same. They knew where to grab, where to touch, where to graze and Niall hated himself for it.

 

_It made him want to be sick._

 

He hated that a simple _look_ from Zayn could turn him to a puddle of mush beneath him. How it could and _would_ make him _moan_ and _groan_ in pure _ecstasy_ ; how it softened his mind. How it made him think that maybe, _just maybe_ he could forgive Zayn. That what the bastard had done hadn’t been all that bad after all. Anger roiled in the pit of his stomach. _No._

 

He bit down on Zayn’s lip. _Hard._ Zayn gasped. Hard enough to break skin. Niall’s tongue ran against the edge and blood swirled in his mouth; he sucked on it hungrily.

 

_No. No._

 

Niall wrenched his wrists from Zayn’s grasp, rage giving him new strength, and twisted them around, slamming Zayn against the wall, pinning him there _. Like Zayn had tried on him moments before._ Zayn could have no power. He didn’t have the power. Hadn’t Zayn been the one begging for Niall only a mere five minutes ago? Wasn’t he the one who’d imposed himself on Niall’s life unannounced? Niall’s hands rubbed at the bones just underneath the surface of Zayn’s wrists and he smirked, blue gaze steely and meeting a surprised gold.

 

_No. No. No._

 

His grip tightened around Zayn’s wrists. This _“love”_ wouldn’t be playing by the same rules as it had been before. By _Zayn’s_ rules. _It couldn’t._ If it did… well… Niall’d go _insane._ If he didn’t believe—didn’t _know_ —that the dynamics of their pathetic tug-of-war romance of give and take the two of them stupidly played was stacked wholly in his favor—then he couldn’t live with himself. Niall couldn’t be that _weak._ Niall couldn’t _actually_ regress that far back. He couldn’t, couldn’t, _couldn’t._  

 

_He couldn’t._

 

He’d spent years trying to make himself believe he was okay. _(A lie)_ All the drugs, _(a lie)_ the alcohol, _(a lie)_ the JAAKing _(a lie)…_ it was to show himself that he could still feel. _(All a mother fucking lie)_ That he wasn’t broken. _(He was)_ He didn’t need Liam’s help. _(He did)_ He didn’t need anyone’s help. _(Don’t you hear his pleas?)_ Anyone’s pity. _(His pride was his prison)_ He was okay. _(No)_ Okay. _(No)_ Okay. _(No)_ O- _fucking-_ kay! **_(NO!)_** Zayn hadn’t stolen everything from him on that fateful day. _(He did)_ Zayn didn’t matter; _(He did)_ the wounds in his heart and mind would heal. _(They didn’t)_ Had healed. _(They wouldn’t)_ The memories… they were just that—memories. _(A lie)_ Niall’d believed it. _(He really didn’t)_

 

But his walls had crumbled. Pandora’s box had been opened and Zayn was here. In Niall’s _now._ _In his space._ Zayn in all his fucking dark and broodingly intelligent glory. His utter perfection. His body was like that of _Adonis;_ carved by the _gods_. The charming, charismatic, _fucker_ that had pushed him to this point. _Ha!_ Who was Niall kidding. He was _fucked_. So, fucking _fucked._ His _BRACKet_ was red, fucking _red!_ He’d been about to _kill_ himself and now everything was suddenly okay because Zayn wanted him? _No. No. No. NO!_ They weren’t on equal standing anymore! Couldn’t be! He was the one in control! He had the _power!_ Zayn had _nothing!_ And the bitch had better remember that! If Niall was fucked and cursed and doomed to just keep getting fucked— _to rot in hell_ —and fall and just keep falling—well—

 

_He’d make damn sure Zayn was right behind him._

 

And that was something he’d better remember.

 

Zayn’s hands laid flat against the wall, his back straight, his knee raised and bent, his thigh pressed against Niall’s groin. His expression was almost comical and the two stood there, staring intently at each other, faces inches apart and their breath mingling together. Niall’s eyes remained in their lazy, half-lidded state, gaze no longer harsh, but now uncaring and apathetic. The dark circles under them stood out like bruises on his almost sickly pale flesh. He didn’t care to waste energy on lifting his expression, he had Zayn where he wanted him. Heat radiated between them and Zayn gulped and shifted his stance, his knee rubbing against Niall’s arousal.  
 _Fuck._

 

The blonde gasped, his head falling against Zayn’s shoulder, his knuckles turning white against Zayn’s wrists. Niall’s grip was so hard he could feel the thrum of Zayn’s pulse beneath his fingers, so hard Niall knew Zayn’d be bruising— _hurting_ —but the tanned corporate executive didn’t hiss out. He didn’t make any noise other than a dry chuckle, his lips quirking up into a knowing smirk. 

 

“S’nice isn’t it?” Zayn mumbled, his voice dark and husky, his breath ghosting against the shell of Niall’s ear, and Niall shivered, biting back a soft moan. _Shit._ “You want to play games _Uncle Ni?_ ” he shifted his thigh again and smirked tauntingly at him, perverting Celia’s pet name for Niall with his sinful tone and actions. He pressed up against him and stayed there, leaving the heat coiling in his belly. Niall bit his lip. It was hot, so fucking hot, and his hands had begun shaking. How the tables had turned, just a minute ago Zayn was the one hesitant and unsure, and now Niall could just feel Zayn’s confidence growing again. _Dammit._ “Well I can play,” his leg shifted just that little bit and Niall couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped his throat at that subtle drag, “if that’s what you want.” Zayn bit Niall’s ear and that, those last words, brought him out of his reverie and his body stiffened, face going hard.

 

Niall chuckled darkly and lifted his head, tilting it to the side and meeting Zayn’s lust filled gaze with his own. So Zayn’d figured it out? Realized his refusal to be pliant was a bid for power? Control? He shouldn’t be surprised, the man was the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the world. He probably ate power plays for breakfast. Had a cup of blackmail for lunch. Ate corruption and intrigue for dinner. The man wasn’t stupid, he couldn’t be if he was to survive in the world he lived in.

 

 _Well then…_ Niall leaned in slightly, close enough to count Zayn’s eyelashes, close enough to count the flecks of dark green in his eyes and feel his breath on his lips. He smiled. “What I want,” Niall let go of Zayn’s left wrist and began trailing a finger down his chest. He licked his lips slowly and splayed his hand on Zayn’s stomach, feeling the abdominal muscles contract there, “is to fuck ya,” his hand grabbed Zayn’s belt buckle and stopped, tugging them closer, “and fuck ya good.” Zayn closed his eyes and whimpered. _Beautiful._ This was what he’d wanted from the start.

 

They were chest to chest and Niall’s hand finally reached lower, down into that little space between them and ran his fingers over the outline of Zayn’s arousal, warm and achingly hard to the touch. Zayn tensed, subconciously straining forward and he let out a harsh breath. He hummed softly to himself. “What’d’ya say, Zaynie?” he purred, his Middle-Dublin lilt a hypnotic cadence of up and down. Smooth and sensual in a way it hadn’t been before. He gripped Zayn’s arousal fully. “Hmm?”

 

Zayn slumped against the wall, breathing irregular and face contorted in a look of pleasured fury. The face of love making, like pain, but the most beautiful kind, so good it hurts. Sweat beaded on his forehead and Niall began to palm him through his slacks. “I could make ya come just like this, huh?” He almost growled. “Like a lil’ school boy getting his rocks off for the first time.” 

 

His pace remained steady and his hot breath trailed against Zayn’s lips. “Make ya leave right after, sticky n’ thinking of me for the rest of the day,” he stopped and Zayn released a breathy moan in protest. 

 

“’Malik’s Golden-boy creamin’ his Armani slacks’,” Niall said mockingly, a fake pout on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. He patted Zayn’s cheek with his free hand, “great title huh? The tabloid’s’ll eat it right up.” He leaned back and Zayn’s eyes fluttered open, a dazed look on his face. He began stroking again, “or I could take proper care of ya.” He whispered. “Yer choice.” Niall was back in control. He would keep the control. This wasn’t a game he could lose.

 

He squeezed again. _“Answer.”_

 

Zayn sucked in a breath, ink black hair in utter disarray. _“Fuck,”_ he bit his lip. 

 

“S’not an answer,” Niall replied, a glint of mischief clouding his eyes. A look into the past. He pulled down Zayn’s zipper and thrust his hand inside, gripping him fully. Zayn gasped at the feeling of Niall’s fingers, a cool and heady contrast to everything he was feeling in that moment.

 

“B-bedroom!” Zayn choked out, voice sounding wrecked and strangled, “please.”

 

Niall shivered. There was that sound again, that _broken,_ _whimpering,_ _begging_ noise that he’d craved. The blonde smirked and gripped Zayn at his base, leaning in and capturing Zayn’s lips in a deep kiss. He stepped back, hand leaving Zayn’s slacks, and the executive slumped to the floor, his legs giving out on him. Niall smiled and patted his stubbly cheek. “Good answer.” 

 

He turned, sweating skin glistening, and the line of his spine visible. His smooth creamy flesh was only broken up by the smattering of finger shaped bruises along his hips and shoulders. Marks Zayn hadn’t left, and a pang of poison green envy coursed through him. “Don’t take too long pickin’ yerself up,” Niall muttered lazily. “And lose the clothes yeah?”

 

Zayn nodded breathlessly, white button down shirt rumpled and partially undone, his tan chest exposed down to his left nipple and he ran a hand down his face. A slight flush could be seen running through his body, his tanned skin darkening subtly, faint and nowhere near as poignant as Niall’s but still there. Zayn bumped his head against the wall and stood, shakily undoing the remaining buttons on his shirt and tossing it to the floor. He followed Niall down the hall.

 

**-Sex is in Our Veins (But Lost Ourselves in Our Memories)-**

 

 

The blonde’s home was a wreck, messy and uncared for. The once white walls were stained yellow and gray from smoke, and he even spotted paint peeling in a few corners. _An absolute wreck,_ Zayn scrunched his nose up in distaste. He stepped over another pair of randomly discarded shorts and a long ago empty take-away carton. Niall had never been a neat freak but there had always been a certain pride in his home, an organized clutter to how he cared for his things.

 

The black haired man tore his gaze from his surroundings, the stains and dirt, the underlying smell of decay and glanced up at Niall. He gulped and ran a hand through his inky strands of hair.

 

It’d been endearing, the homey way Niall’d taken care of his old college flat. Zayn’d loved the way Niall’d never been able to find anything when he really needed it—even when it was smack in front of him. Or on top of his head. Or perched on his ear. Whatever. Zayn’d always eventually be the one to point out whatever it was he’d been looking for and it made his chest swell because Niall’d jump in his arms and plant a ridiculously wet kiss to his cheek. If anyone else tried to do that with him they’d be punched in the face no questions asked but it was _Niall_ and everything _Niall_ was _addicting_ like a drug. His silly lopsided grin. The wild hair. Everything. People craved his presence. 

 

 _Sunshine._ If you’d asked him what Niall was six years ago, that would’ve been his answer no questions asked. _Sunshine._ It was automatic. Niall’s smile had been intoxicating. His laugh brightened any room. His presence… it had been this _warm—blazing—all consuming_ light that took the world by storm. It was unexpected, Niall’d been the _sun_ ; his gravity pulled everyone in, and people had begged for his attention, a chance in the light. It’s what had drawn Zayn to him in the first place. The blonde hair and blue eyes, the unadulterated joy of _life._ Of _living_. Niall’d been an _angel._

 

Zayn’s heart clenched.

 

But now… _now…_ Niall was no angel. His wings had turned gray and boney, and his feathers into ash. His song was no longer joyful but now low and mournful. He was no sun, his light had grown dim, and flickered away, slowly imploding. He wasn’t even a moon, pulled into the gravity of others and reflecting their light and warmth. No. He was broken. Tortured and Zayn could almost see it radiating off him, his darkness. 

 

Niall was a black hole, destroying himself and everyone and thing around him. Dark, deadly and invisible, his gravity as strong as before, but polluted. Changed. Turned to poison. Guilt pierced Zayn’s heart, this was his fault. His sin. The darkness that should be his but was carried on Niall’s shoulders. Niall’d lost his light and it now ate at his life. He was barely there, like a shadow flickering between life and death. _He was no sun._

_Not even a moon._

 

They reached Niall’s room and the blonde gave him a _look_ , raising a hand to scratch the top of his head. “Sorry ‘bout the mess, s’pose,” he drawled eying the cluttered room, cuffs and blindfolds littering the floor, “no chance to clean up.”

 

Zayn gulped and nodded, stepping inside, gaze locked on the bonds on the bed. He raised a brow. “Bondage?” he muttered jerking his head towards the bed. Niall hummed noncommittally in response. Zayn’s brow furrowed, “that’s… new…” he stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

 

Niall closed the door and shrugged. “Keeps the sex fun,” he flopped down on the bed, blowing his bangs out of his face. “You comin’ or am I fuckin’ ya in the air? Doesn’t really matter, that’d work too.”

 

Zayn coughed. “Yeah… bed. Right,” he unbuckled his belt with shaky, sweat-drenched hands and tossed it to the floor. He shucked off his pants, leaving himself only in his tight fitting black briefs. Nervousness coiled through the pit of his belly and he stared off to the side of the room so he wouldn’t have to look at the blonde. _What the hell?_ Why was he acting like a self-conscious virgin? He’d asked for this, he wanted— _needed_ —this, but it was as if it was all for the first time. Like he was with a complete stranger, a hooker, when he wasn’t, it was _Niall,_ and he knew Niall like the back of his hand.

 

Niall whistled propping himself up on his elbows. “Sexy.” Zayn gulped.

 

_At least he did._

 

Zayn ducked his head and rubbed his nose. “Thanks,” he mumbled, clearing his throat, and laid himself down beside the blonde.

 

There was a beat of silence. Neither moved. They were so close to each other, skin on skin, brown on white, heart beats synchronizing but neither dared to do anything more. Instead they took each other in; saw how time had changed them. Niall: the tattoos that littered Zayn’s body spiraling up and down his arms and chest so sinuously and perfectly. There were new ones, ones that danced between what had once been simple skin—connecting them—but they were all so beautiful and elegant—soft curves and edges—not a single one out of place like he was _born_ with them. Like they _completed_ him. People didn’t understand them, didn’t understand why a man of his standing would purposely mutilate his skin, but Niall _did._ He understood that it was his way of coping with his world. They weren’t a sign of disfigurement or weakness, they were a sign of strength. They told a story, _Zayn’s_ story, but unlike Niall who strove to _forget,_ Zayn’s remained inked on his skin so he’d _remember._  

 

_And it was fucking gorgeous._

 

Zayn… he saw the sickly build that Niall had developed. He saw the bags under his eyes, saw the slight tremors constantly rocking through his body. Gaunt and tired and so, _so_ mechanical—rusty—and world weary. He could imagine each joint protesting in movement, screaming and creaking like they needed replacing, begging for oil. It was so horribly, pathetically… _sad._

 

 Niall stared and his expression softened minutely from the cocky, apathetically arrogant man he subconsciously projected to something more gentle, almost nostalgic— _real_ —and he ran a hand down Zayn’s body, starting at his stubble covered cheek and moving down. It was a wonder really because… Zayn _let_ him. He stroked across the prominent vein in his neck, down past the curve of his collarbone, around his erect nipple and across his slender hips, feeling the warmth and strength hidden underneath.

 

The blonde licked his lips and turned his attention back up to the amber orbs in front of him. “Do ya trust me?” he whispered, the moment strangely intimate.

 

Zayn tracked the movement with his eyes and shifted slightly so their hips were aligned. His hand, so much wider than Niall’s, spread across the knobs of his spine, rubbing in gentle circles before moving down to cup his buttocks. He gave it a small squeeze; Niall moaned.

 

He let out a whisper of a breath and Niall closed his eyes, feeling it dance across his lashes. He smelled the sharp familiar scent of mint he’d come to associate with the ebony haired man and the same bitter aroma of Nando’s coffee that he’d gotten Zayn addicted to all those years ago. But there was a new scent, weaker but more pungent like sour acid; a scent Niall was more than familiar with himself. _Alcohol._ He shivered; something about knowing Zayn was just as fucked on the vice as he was made him even more aroused than before. “Yes,” Zayn whispered, “I always have.”

 

“Good,” Niall opened his eyes and moved his hand back up to cup Zayn’s prickly cheek, “that’s stupid as fuck but good.”

 

Zayn frowned, brow furrowing and nose crinkling slightly; his hands pausing on Niall’s back. “Why?”

 

The blonde raised a brow and smirked. It was the smirk Zayn was quickly realizing was this new wounded, broken Niall’s way of grinning. “Why what?” he twirled a lock of Zayn’s black hair between a pair of pale digits “Why yer a dumb shit for trustin’ me or why it’s smart that ya do?”

 

He considered this for a moment, lip pulled between his front teeth. “Both,” he said with an air of practiced finality and command.

 

Niall snorted and hummed in the back of his throat. “’Course ya’ do,” he sighed, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips, “s’pose ya’d never change.” _Unlike me._

 

It was silent for a moment and Zayn shifted uncomfortably where he lay. “Well?” He tapped against the jut of Niall’s hip.

 

Niall dragged his finger across the black ink of the tattoos on Zayn’s chest, his eyes tracing the movement lazily, watching as the skin rose and fell with the touch. “I’m not who I was six years ago,” he finally said—softly and plainly—almost tentatively; he locked eyes with Zayn, “and neither are you.” 

 

Zayn gulped and looked away from the burning _truth_ in Niall’s eyes, his throat feeling dry and he wet his lips. “We can’t’ve changed all that much,” he said lamely.

 

Niall smirked. “You’d be surprised.” He suddenly rolled them over, straddling Zayn’s hips and rubbed his thumbs against his wrists. His gaze flickered up momentarily and a devilish light filled his eyes. “Do ya trust me?” he asked again, bending down to graze his lips on the man’s beneath him.

 

Zayn nodded, face set. “Yes.”

 

“Close yer eyes.”

 

Zayn blinked. “What?”

 

Niall’s grip tightened for a moment and he let out a puff of air. “Close yer eyes and relax, ‘kay?”

The two looked at each other, Niall daring Zayn to disobey. He didn’t. Zayn dipped his head and slowly closed his eyes. 

 

The blonde released him—still straddling his waist—and Zayn heard the soft high whine of sweaty skin on fabric as Niall wiped his hands against the sheets by his head. “And here’s the answer to yer second question,” he grabbed his wrists again and began raising his arms. Zayn tensed as he felt the faint brush of fabric against his wrist. “Don’t fight it,” Niall whispered, nipping at the juncture of his neck, “you’ll ruin the fun,” He felt Niall shift his weight and his breath moved to the front of his face.“Ya trust me remember?” He murmured pecking him on his lips. Sandy colored eyelashes brushed against his cheek and he shivered were he laid trapped beneath the weight of Niall’s legs.

 

 “Relax ‘n leave it ta me.” He cooed tenderly in Zayn’s ear, before rubbing his nose against his. “’kay?”

 

Hair heavy with sweat Zayn took a deep breath and closed his eyes willing his body to grow pliant and submit—but—it was _hard_. It was hard for him to be at the complete mercy of someone else. It was hard for him to relinquish control for even five minutes. His entire life revolved around _leading_ , around _controlling_ and _dominating_ others and no matter how much he denied it or how much he hated it, he _thrived_ on it. _Lived_ for it. Thrived on the thrill it gave him; on the rush he felt knowing he had the final say in the room. That he was _god_. He worried his lip between his teeth and let the breath out slowly through his nose. He could say no. He could, conceivably tell Niall to stop right now and he knew that the blonde would. But something held him back. He knew that if he did… he’d never get the chance to see him again. 

 

And he couldn’t let that happen.

 

_Not now, not ever._

 

He stared into the dark blown out lust filled blue-black of his eyes, saw the hungry almost feral gleam in them, the flush in his pale cheeks and knew it was true _. Control._ The thought struck him like a punch in the gut; _that’s_ what Niall needed… His world was crumbling around him, everything was slipping from his grasp, and the one thing he needed more than anything else felt impossible to reach. Zayn could see it in every corner of the house, in the slight musky odor that permeated the air, in the war flickering behind Niall’s eyes—in the tremble of that carefree smirk that seemed permanently glued to his face. Not even his mask was sturdy anymore. _Control._ Niall needed a taste of it, needed to live that same thrill that Zayn experienced every day. _At least once._ For a moment, he needed to be god of his own world. He’d forgotten what it was like. He’d forgotten what it meant. He’d forgotten the feeling, and it was all Zayn’s fault. _He’d_ taken it from him. 

 

It wasn’t just control Niall needed. It was Zayn’s very soul.

 

_And he would give it to him._

 

 He nodded. “Okay,” voice shaking and hardly above a whisper, he acquiesced, “okay.” Niall stared at him, mouth parting in a slight “o” and licked his lips, rough and dry and shiny from abuse. There was a hardness in his eyes, but also a hint of fear, so small and so buried behind the act of nonchalance and bravado that roiled off every pore of his body that it was almost missed. But it _was_ there and it was all the reassurance Zayn needed. 

 

Zayn cleared his throat; let his body go totally limp and wiggled his wrists in Niall’s grasp, a silent impatient _go on,_ in the gesture and waited, staring at the man sitting astride him. 

 

Niall blinked, shock written on his features like he’d been expecting the worst; expecting rejection. _He probably had been,_ Zayn’s mind supplied rather unhelpfully. The Middle-Dubliner schooled his visage quickly though, tossing his sweaty bangs out of his face and smirking down at him, grabbing the soft fabric attached to the headboard behind Zayn’s inky locks. _Beautiful_. Even with the bruises that branded Niall as someone else’s, and the skinny red lines of sex that marred his porcelain skin, Niall still held onto the very foundation of beauty. Zayn breathed out slowly. _Like a fallen angel—made perfect in his grief_. 

 

Niall’s voice jarred him from his thoughts. “We’ll start easy then yeah?”

 

Zayn’s head shook in the affirmative. “M' all yours,” he murmured voice soft and husky.

 

Niall laughed, full and harsh, head lolling to the side—finding something innately funny with what Zayn’d said. Zayn frowned before he could help himself; he didn’t like it. It was condescending and nothing like the bubbly joyous noise from before, it grated on Zayn’s nerves and sent yet another pang of emotion through him. _He had changed so much_.

 

“Oh I know Zaynie,” the blonde said wiping a tear from his eye and securing Zayn’s wrists to the headboard, “just makin’ sure ya do too,” Niall licked the shell of his ear and Zayn shivered, “glad we’re on the same page,” he patted his cheek.

 

He finished tying the knots and Zayn gave them an experimental tug. They didn’t budge. _Perfect._

 

The blonde ran his hands over Zayn’s bare legs, pushing them apart. He felt the fine dark hairs running through his fingertips, softer to the touch than he expected. Felt the light dampness building on his skin, the slight tremor of muscles just underneath the caress. He noticed the change from mocha to olive the closer to Zayn’s groin he moved. “Ready?” Niall drawled.

 

Zayn nodded, it was all he could manage; his Adam’s Apple bobbed delicately in his throat. His pulse was rocketing in his veins and his body shook with an almost sickening mix of arousal and nerves. God was Zayn ready. He was beyond ready, so, _so_ ready. He’d been ready from the moment Niall’d told him to kiss him.

 

Niall just smirked in response and his hand trailed higher, dancing feather light on his skin. His touch raised goosebumps and sent unconscious shivers throughout Zayn’s body. Niall leaned down and Zayn looked wide eyed and transfixed as the blonde lowered his head, cocky smirk glued to his lips, right hand lightly rubbing his thigh while his left gently circled the base of his throbbing cock. 

 

Niall licked his lips as he gently squeezed the shaft; Zayn inhaled sharply, bucking his hips and letting out a scandalously breathy moan. His arms strained against the headboard and he began to regret his decision to have his arms tied, he wanted to touch so badly, wanted to grab hold of Niall, wanted to feel the sweat of his body against his fingers and feel his pulse mirrored in his own. Zayn bit his lip, “more,” he croaked out, “God please, _more_.”

 

The blonde smiled sweetly and ducked his head, leaning in, stroking languidly up then down, moving in, in, in—

 

Zayn bit his lip he could feel Niall’s breath, feel its dampness—

 

 His heart pounded in his chest—

 

His eyes closed—the stroking paused for a moment—

 

A faint brush of lips against the head of his penis and then—

 

_Ding-Dong!_

 

Zayn opened his eyes and Niall froze.

 

_Ding-Dong!_

 

Niall mumbled a curse under his breath. “Shit.”

 

The door chimed again and Niall jerked back, eyes widening in horror as the haze of sex left him; looking like he was seeing Zayn for the first time. “Shit,” he breathed again a slight tremor in his voice and hands. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, _fuck_!”

 

Zayn looked on confused and again tried to break free of the headboard; Niall flinched away, like he was burned, face paling until he looked as white as a sheet. He staggered off the bed, blue eyes looking wild and cloudy, his hair a stringy and tousled mess. He rubbed his arms, a constant manta of  _“shit_ ” and _“fuck”_ and _“what the hell was I thinking”_ flowing from his mouth as he hastily grabbed the sweats he had tossed onto the floor. The door chimed again and this time they could hear a light pounding on the door, followed by a worried sounding male voice. Niall breathed out through his nose, almost falling as he shoved his bony legs into the polyester coverings.

 

“Shit,”  Niall stilled and took a shuddering breath, before running a shaky hand through his hair and pulling on the ends. Niall looked across at Zayn and his eyes looked clearer than before. “Stay here,” his voice wavered slightly. Zayn wet his lips.

 

“What’s going—.”

 

“Shut up!” He snapped, a sudden flare of white hot anger flashing through him. Zayn flinched and Niall’s eyes widened again. He ran a hand down his face, and a small whimper escaped his throat, his other hand tapping impatiently against his leg. “Just… shut up… it’s Liam, I’ll be right back.” He crossed the distance quickly, swinging the door open and putting one foot over the threshold before pausing and turning around. He looked uncertain, brow furrowing and biting his lip, his hand drumming against the doorknob like the fingers were itching to pull him away. “Stay here.” Niall’s eyes darted to his face then down to his floor again. “I’ll be right back,” he repeated.

 

Zayn’s face scrunched in a look of mild confusion but he nodded all the same. Niall nodded back slowly, lips pulled into a thin line between his teeth and stepped out into the hallway swinging the door shut behind him. Zayn let out a short shocked breath and pulled gently against the headboard again. _Not like he was going anywhere anyway._

 

**-Sex is in Our Veins (But Lost Ourselves in Our Memories)-**

There’s a need burning inside him, an itch, an urge that surges through his pores and throbs at the base of his neck. His tongue felt heavy and swollen in his mouth and the taste of charred flesh lingered on his buds. _The first taste he’d had in days._ Again. _Fuck._ A sliver of ice wedged itself into his heart, its fear cold and gripping his mind with steely claws, wrapping around him, muddling and choking his thoughts until all the _good_ was crushed. _Gone_. Leaving nothing but fear and terror and disappointment and dread. Thoughts of worthlessness and failure. Words of discontent and regret and harsh mocking laughter. Because he’s pathetic. Because he’s worthless, because he doesn’t deserve what he has. He doesn’t deserve to—

 

  _“No,”_ it’s one word and comes out barely stronger than a whisper, cracked and rough, but it grounds him, it brings him back, leaves his mind on this plane again. _Focus._ His mind clears.

 

He licks his dry brittle lips _did I…?_ He thought back to two nights ago. Voice it. Think it. _JAAK_. He couldn’t help but wonder and thought of the Den, how this situation felt so familiar, so similar that it almost sang purely of déjà vu and gingerly, fearfully he reached to the back of his neck, running his fingers over the three pronged bumps there. He knew it wasn’t likely, knew it’s next to impossible but the fear was still there. He had to make sure. Niall let out a breath; hisses at the contact. Just skin. Just sensitive inflamed skin. _No then._ This was real. This was _real._ This hadn’t happened before. He’s not asleep. This was happening and fuck, _Niall was a_ ** _wreck_** _._  

 

His entire body ached, his joints creaked and protested, his skin feels inflamed and raw, burning from the inside out with an insatiable _itch_ and no matter how hard he rubbed or scratched at it, no matter how hard he willed it, or how hard he clenched his fists and banged his head against the wall, begging, _screaming_ in his mind for it to go away it just. wouldn’t _._ fucking. _leave._ He felt sick to his stomach. 

 

His gut twisted. He felt every cut, every bruise. His hands trembled at his sides and his breaths came in short and uneven puffs. _What the fuck had he done?_ He was dead. Liam was going to _kill_ him. He knew it, knew it knew it-- He rested his head against the door to his room. He sighed. It was time to meet his maker.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE COMMENT!!!!! MEANS THE WORLD TO ME!
> 
> Omg sooooo sorry about this chapter not getting up earlier D; It was like this waaay back in june. I initially intended on making this chapter about as long as the first but then my computer died and i'd been freaking out trying to find all the pieces (thank god for FB and email) so I figured, "School's starting up soon" and "this chapter's pretty decent length already, a little shorter than I'd have liked but tolerable." so I was like "Well then... I'll just post this part now and work on the 2nd half at school" So the next part will probably be around 10-12k words and then the next after that will be back up there to like 16k ish. Besides this gives me time to write that extra scene for part one -.- Continuity issues fuck me.
> 
> AGAIN COMMENT, KUDO, SUBSCRIBE! MAKES THE WORLD GO ROUND PEEPS!

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah! Thanks for getting to the end! Any feedback is appreciated especially cause I spent so much time on this I REALLY want to hear for you all! So please drop a note anything! Good bad inbetween what confused you what you thought of the characters etc. Anyway I really cant' focus anymore sooo I'm gonna stop trying 
> 
> -Archie
> 
> Throws love
> 
> *Update**
> 
> Yeah. I've decided to make this a longer Multi-chapter fic. Soooo yeah CHEER EVERYONE!!!


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